


Apparition

by Embrosia



Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: F/M, Ghost Hunting, Ghosts, Hauntings, M/M, Paranormal Investigators
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-09
Updated: 2017-01-10
Packaged: 2018-09-07 10:41:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 18,994
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8797684
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Embrosia/pseuds/Embrosia
Summary: Barry and Iris are concerned that their new apartment may be haunted; luckily, Cisco might know a guy who has a little experience with busting ghosts.





	1. Beware of Ghosties

Cisco gnashes his teeth together as Barry cyclones into his workroom at STAR Labs, scattering his immaculately-organised stack of papers across the room. He looks at the paperweight sitting next to the now-dispersed sheets and sighs to himself; damn it, he was _going_ to pop it on top of the papers, but Barry had texted him earlier, saying he wouldn’t be in until tomorrow.

“Hey, man,” Barry says, pulling up a spare chair and rolling it over to sit next to Cisco, his chest heaving as he catches his breath. The tart smell of burning rubber fills the room as he stamps his shoes on the ground, extinguishing any embers. Trust Barry to run in his civvies and not his suit. “I need to ask you something, and before you call me crazy, _please_ just hear me out.”

“Uh,” Cisco says, placing his precision screwdriver down next to his gauntlets and spinning to face his best friend. “Lay it on me. Wait, you’re not gonna proposition me for sex or anything, right?”

Barry scoffs. “God, no. I just wanted to ask if you believe in…I don’t know, the afterlife? Do you believe in life after death?”

Where the hell did this come from? Cisco mentally runs back over the past week- Barry hadn’t seemed _that_ out of the ordinary. In fact, he’d been ecstatic, having just finished moving all of his stuff out of Cisco’s apartment and into his and Iris’s new one. Don’t get him wrong, Cisco will totally miss his best bro, but…he’s a bit sick of walking in on him and Iris making out violently on his nice clean couch. _Yech_.

But this sudden talk of death, of morality and reincarnation…yeah, that’s out of the blue.

“The afterlife?” Cisco says, trying to sound as sincere as possible. “Dude, you don’t even have to worry about that. Nobody’s gonna die anytime soon.”

“It’s not the _dying_ I’m worried about. To be honest, I’m more worried about people who have already died.”

Oh, man, with everything that’d happened over the past few weeks, Cisco had all but forgotten about everything that had gone down in Flashpoint. Barry had spent three months- _3 months_ \- with his parents alive again, only to witness his mother being murdered by the Reverse Flash for the…third time? Fourth? Either way, it makes total sense that Barry’s philosophising about the meaning of life, the inevitability of death, all that fun stuff.

“I’m always here to talk if you want to,” Cisco says, not entirely sure if he should actually bring up Henry and Nora for fear of sending Barry into another downward spiral. “I get it- maybe not to the same extent as you, but I know what it’s like.”

Barry’s expression rapidly cycles between slight confusion and relief. “Thank _god_. I was worried I’d have to do this alone. Knowing you have some experience, it makes me feel a whole lot safer.”

_Safer_. Wait, what?

“I just want to be clear we’re on the same page,” Cisco says slowly, narrowing his eyes. “Because what _I’m_ getting from this conversation is that you want some support dealing with grief.”

“Hah!” Barry barks out a laugh, startling Cisco. “I think I need to clarify. I’m talking about ghosts.”

Cisco nods. “Right, ghosts. I should’ve known. I was worried that…” Barry’s words belatedly register in his mind. “Wait, what? Ghosts? Oh, Barry, you’re not seeing things, are you?”

Cisco knows from his bereavement support group that grief can manifest in all sorts of ways- hearing loved one’s voices, physical pain, and, rarely, hallucinations. Barry _does_ tend to have a knack for attracting extraordinary circumstances.

Barry huffs, his eyes darting around the room before they settle on Cisco. He sighs again, his shoulders slumping. “I think my new place is haunted.”

“Haunted? As in, Caspar the Friendly Ghost haunted? Or as in, Paranormal Activity haunted?”

“Definitely Paranormal Activity haunted,” Barry decides. “There’s some really weird shit going down, man, and it only happens when I’m there. Iris doesn’t even believe me- she thinks I’m trying to pull some stupid prank on her! I’m not that kind of guy.”

Cisco hums in agreement; it’s true, HR is the prankster in the team. “What kind of stuff’s happening? Do you have any evidence?”

“I’m a CSI- of _course_ I have evidence.” Barry reaches into his jeans pocket and pulls out his phone. He flicks through a few photos before handing it to Cisco to inspect.

The engineer isn’t sure what he’s supposed to be looking at, at first. He tilts the phone to the side and upside-down, trying to figure out just what’s in the photograph. It’s a meme.

“Oops,” Barry says, snatching his phone back and scrolling to the correct file. “Heh, sorry. This is it. Listen closely.”

Cisco presses play on the video Barry’s brought up. He can hear Barry’s voice whispering in the background.

_“So, uh, this is the third of January. It’s eight at night, Iris is at work, and I’m all alone. I’m- there it is again!”_

The camera shakes and zooms in on a blank white wall. Cisco raises the phone next to his ear and listens to the strange sound Barry had managed to capture. It’s like someone is rapping on the plasterboard with sharp knuckles. The camera jolts again, and Barry’s face comes into view.

_“It’s been happening for almost half an hour now. I don’t think it’s a rat or any other kind of animal. I’m gonna lay some traps out anyway.”_

The video ends. Cisco chews on his lip thoughtfully before handing Barry’s phone back. “You know, if this whole ‘super-powered CSI’ think doesn’t work out, you might have a real career ahead of you as a vlogger.”

 

* * *

 

 

Caitlin frowns and turns back to where she’s analysing a tissue sample under the microscope in the med bay. “A ghost? Are you sure it’s not just a brand new metahuman? Or rats?”

“It’s a ghost,” Cisco says. “I’m sure of it.”

“It’s Barry’s apartment- you haven’t even been there yet! How could you possibly know it’s haunted if you’ve never stepped foot inside?”

Cisco trots around the Cortex, playing around with the monitors and stuffing spare wires into a cardboard box to take to Barry’s place. “I’m not a _medium_ , Caitlin, I’m basing my theories purely off of the evidence gathered by Barry.”

“Evidence?” Caitlin all but splutters. “Cisco, one video does not constitute proof of the supernatural!”

Cisco coos to himself as he finds a couple of forgotten hinges in the second draw of Wellsobard’s old desk- _perfect_ for mounting the security cameras he’d stolen from storage to Barry’s walls. No ghost is getting past him.

“Have fun, then,” Caitlin says, turning back to her microscope and beginning to stain a new slide. “Don’t let the ghosties bite.”

“Ha ha,” Cisco says bluntly, heaving the cardboard box packed with everything he needs for installing surveillance in Barry’s house into his arms and making his way out to his van.

 

* * *

 

 

“Does Iris know about this?” Cisco asks as he stretches up to mount a camera in the corner of Barry’s kitchen, his feet balanced precariously on the top rung of the small step-ladder. “I don’t want to be sticking things into your brand new walls if I’m gonna get in trouble.”

Barry laughs, holding the ladder stable as Cisco finishes up and starts to climb down. “Dude, it’s only Iris! You know she wouldn’t hurt a fly. Besides, it’s easier to ask for forgiveness than permission, right?”

“Iris can be scary,” Cisco grumbles, stabbing his finger at his tablet. “If she asks, I had no part in this.”

“Alright,” Barry says, picking up the ladder and following Cisco down the hallway. “So, where’s the next camera going?”

Cisco gestures towards the larger of the two bedrooms. “In here, I guess.”

“No _way_.” Barry throws himself in between Cisco and the doorframe. “Nuh-uh, I do _not_ have a death wish.”

“Kidding, man,” Cisco snorts. “Unless you’re _into_ cameras in the bedroom.”

Cisco ducks Barry’s fist before it can collide with his shoulder, taking the ladder and setting it up at the end of the hallway. He waits until Barry’s holding it stable again before climbing up and mounting it in such a position that it should cover the whole hallway. It’s _all_ about the angles.

“I think we’re done,” Cisco grunts as he descends, dusting his hands off on his jeans once he’s next to Barry again. “We’ve got the hallway camera, the kitchen camera, and the living room camera- all of them equipped to record at the slightest hint of any motion. If anything spooky happens, we’ll know about it for sure.”

 

 


	2. Cisco Ramon: Ouija Genius

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cisco has the worst idea ever. Surprisingly, Barry goes along with it.

The very first thing Cisco does when he arrives at work the next morning is to place a paperweight on top of the re-organised pile of papers on the desk in his workroom. He smiles to himself when Barry rushes in without disturbing anything, probably for the first time ever.

“Anything?”

Cisco shrugs one shoulder. “Sorry, man. I skimmed through most of the footage, but there’s nothing. The motion sensors didn’t go off at all, either. What did Iris think of the cameras?”

“Surprisingly, she didn’t mind,” Barry says, smoothing out his shirt and unbuttoning his cardigan to drape it over one shoulder. “I think she must have spoken to Caitlin, because she thinks it might be a meta too.”

“Hm,” Cisco says, squinting as he fiddles with the fingers of his gauntlets- an especially sensitive area, given that he has so much tech packed into such a small space. “I mean, surely a ghost isn’t _that_ unbelievable…we’ve dealt with some weird shit over the past few years.”

Barry nods in agreement and turns to leave. “Anyways, I gotta get to work, or Singh will have my ass. I just wanted to check in.”

“All good, man,” Cisco says, although Barry’s already left by the time the words leave his mouth. He turns back to his desk, planning to fiddle with his gauntlets some more (they don’t really need adjusting, but it’s quiet in Central City and he’d be agitated with nothing to do). His tablet lights up with a notification, diverting his attention.

_Motion sensor activated_.

Cisco heads to the Cortex, where he can bring the footage up on one of the larger monitors. He keeps an eye on the camera feed of Barry’s kitchen, where the movement had been detected. Nothing out of the ordinary seems to be happening, but Cisco is hesitant to look away as he almost collides with the centre console.

He’s almost disappointed when the sensor doesn’t go off again. Damn, must’ve been a moth or something.

Iris is perched on the side of the desk, her feet swinging back and forth as she chats with Caitlin. They both look up at Cisco as he sideswipes the desk, their faces lit up in quizzical expressions.

“Meta alert?” Iris asks, stretching and dropping to her feet. “I brought you a coffee, Cisco.”

Cisco smiles vaguely. “You’re the best, Iris. And it’s not a meta- it’s the cameras in your apartment. I thought they’d picked up something, but it must have just been an insect or something.”

He turns to one of the monitors on the back wall where he’s brought up a feed of Barry and Iris’s kitchen. He ignores Iris’s groan behind him, staring down the screen as though he can will something to happen. Nothing does, though.

“Oh, Cisco, what have you done?” Caitlin rubs at her forehead. “Not this ghost business again. Iris, you _can’t_ be okay with this. I mean, cameras all over your house?”

“They’re not _all_ over my house,” Iris says a bit sheepishly. She moves over to stand next to Cisco, observing the screen intently. “Only in the kitchen, living room and hallway. Besides…I’m actually kind of interested to see what happens. But,” she jabs Cisco on the shoulder with a sharp finger, “if you go bringing a Ouija board, or any of that creepy stuff, into my house…”

Cisco nods, although he’s just been struck with a probably terrible idea.

He’s gonna take a Ouija board to Iris and Barry’s house.

 

* * *

 

 

“Bad idea, man,” Barry says, taking the old, worn box containing the Ouija board from Cisco’s hands. He turns it over and inspects the back of it. “I can’t believe they used to market these as children’s toys.”

Cisco snatches the box back and places it on the bench. “Yeah, well, this one is an antique, so _be careful_.” He turns back to Barry. “In all seriousness, we don’t actually have to do it if you’re uncomfortable.”

Barry’s eyes narrow, as though he’s just been presented with a huge challenge. “We should do it…unless _you’re_ scared.”

To be honest, Cisco actually _is_ a little spooked. Everyone’s heard the multitude of horror stories about Ouija boards gone rogue, and he’s more than a little concerned that they might be inviting an evil spirit into Barry’s apartment. At the same time, though, he really can’t justify _not_ doing it- sure, he believes in ghosts, but how much harm could one little board game do? It’s not his fault he has such an inquisitive nature.

“Have you ever used one before?” Barry looks a little concerned, pulling out his phone and googling _Ouija board tutorials_.

Cisco opens the box and pulls out the board, dusting it off. He fishes around for the planchette. “Of course I have. I know how to do the ritual.”

“Ritual,” Barry echoes. “Oh my god, I feel like a cultist.”

Cisco sets the board in the centre of the table and pulls the planchette from its small bag. “There _are_ a few rules. I’ll be the one asking all the questions, so you don’t have to worry about that. Keep your fingers on the planchette- “

“Planchette?”

“Yeah, the little triangle thing. Keep your fingers on it at all times, don’t let it fall to the floor or anything. Uh, what else…be polite. I guess that’s it. Also, don’t freak out.”

Barry sighs, sitting down at the table. Cisco follows suit, cracking his fingers and placing them on the planchette. He waits for Barry to do the same.

“I’m going to warm it up a bit,” Cisco explains, circling the board a few times before landing on the letter _G_. “You ready?”

“I guess so.”

“Alright.” Cisco clears his throat, his fingers feather-light next to Barry’s. “Uh, are there any spirits available to speak to us? We come in peace, by the way.”

Barry shoots Cisco a look of disbelief. Hey, he never said he was a professional Ouija-user, did he?

The planchette stays perfectly still as Cisco listens to Barry’s loud breathing. After a few minutes, Barry starts to shift in his seat.

“Is something supposed to happen?”

“Sometimes it takes a while,” Cisco says. “Just be patient.”

They sit for another few minutes. Cisco eventually starts to grow a bit restless as well, his arms uncomfortable from being held out over the table for so long. He’s determined to wait it out; he wants to speak to a ghost, dammit! Barry doesn’t seem to be sharing the same enthusiasm, though, as is evident from the anxious glances he shoots around the room every so often.

“Ah, well,” Cisco says, exhaling noisily. He’s pretty disappointed. “I guess we just aren’t too popular today.”

“I guess not,” Barry replies. “So can we stop now? Tell them adios?”

Cisco grins. “Ah, adios indeed, my dear friend! Yeah, I guess we can pack up for now.” He circles the planchette around the board again, thanking the spirits for their (lack of) cooperation and landing on _Goodbye_. Barry’s fingers fly off as soon as it’s safe to.

“We can try again another day,” Cisco suggests, slipping the planchette back into its little pouch and tucking the board back into its worn box.

Barry stands up and runs his long fingers through his hair. “Dude, I don’t know. That made me feel weird.”

“Weird? Weird how?”

“I just didn’t feel right,” Barry says, shrugging it off. “Like there was someone else in the room. You’re totally putting ideas in my head- if I don’t sleep tonight, it’s your fault.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed! Comments are always appreciated, I love reading them. :)


	3. Ghost Hunters Near Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Barry and Iris have a terrifying experience.

Barry doesn’t often get the opportunity to sleep in. Between working full time as one of Central City’s finest CSI’s _and_ being Central City’s super-speeded saviour, he savours every single opportunity for extra rest. Take today, for example; it’s the perfect Saturday, warm but not _too_ warm, wisps of sunlight filtering through his partially-opened curtains. The only thing missing is his beautiful girlfriend.

The mattress is still warm beside Barry; Iris hasn’t been up for long. He stretches his arms and legs out as he throws them over the side of the bed, shaking out some of the stiffness from sleeping in an odd position. He pads across the room in his socks, smiling to himself as he smells the faint scent of eggs and bacon- hopefully _lots_ of eggs and bacon.

“Barry! Holy shit- _Barry_!”

Barry is in the kitchen in a flash, preparing to either put out a fire or save the eggs from burning (Iris has a knack for over-frying eggs to the point of charcoal). His eyes practically fall out of his skull at the sight.

Every single pot, pan, and piece of cutlery that they own has been neatly lined up along the kitchen counter in order of function and size. Iris is standing in the corner of the room, wearing nothing but one of Barry’s old t-shirts and a pair of bright orange sleep shorts. She points wildly at the bench with a quivering finger.

“Did you do this?” Iris’s voice shakes slightly- whether it’s from fear or anger, Barry’s not sure. “ _Please_ tell me this is a stupid prank. Please don’t tell me our house is _actually_ haunted.”

“I only just woke up,” Barry says, gesturing vaguely over his shoulder as he approaches the strange display. “This is…wow. Okay. I don’t know what to say.”

Iris comes over to stand next to Barry, tucking herself against his frame. “I left the room for about thirty seconds. I came back, and…I swear to god, Barry if this is a joke- “

“No joke,” Barry assures her. “I’m gonna call Cisco.”

 

* * *

 

 

“Holy moly,” Cisco breathes, almost dropping his phone. He puts it on speaker-mode and sets it down on his dining room table, grabbing his tablet and pulling up the feed of Barry’s apartment. “I’m almost too scared to watch this alone.”

Barry lets out a huff from the other end of the line. “Just do it. Iris is freaking out.” He lowers his voice to a harsh whisper. “ _I’m_ freaking out!”

“Okay, okay,” Cisco says, perching at the table and fumbling with his tablet. He brings up the recorded feeds from the past couple of hours. The motion sensor had gone off three times in the kitchen and four times in the hallway. He skims through the footage of Iris moving down the hallway from the bedroom to the kitchen, of her leaving again and ducking into the bathroom. The motion sensor from the kitchen picks up movement as soon as she leaves the room.

Cisco is suddenly unable to form proper words with his mouth as he watches the kitchen cabinets fly open, crockery and cutlery being whisked through the air and lined up on the bench by a pair of invisible hands. He watches as Iris returns to the kitchen, only to press herself up against the wall and scream for Barry.

That’s when he pauses the footage, clicking his tablet off and setting it down on the dining table. He links his fingers together, resting his head on top of them.

“I’ll take your silence as a sign of something being horribly wrong,” Barry says a bit frantically. “Uh…Cisco? You still there, bud?”

Cisco scrubs at his face. “I’m here.”

“Well? What did you see?”

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you,” Cisco mumbles.

“Try me.”

Chewing on his lip, Cisco thinks about how to word his next sentence without scaring the living crap out of his best friend. Sure, Barry had had his suspicions about his place being haunted, but this footage basically just cemented it.

“Either we have a meta with an invisibility cloak on our hands,” Cisco says slowly, deliberately. “Or your house is haunted as hell, dude.”

 

* * *

 

 

Barry and Iris are already at STAR Labs when Cisco arrives. The place feels different on a Saturday than on a weekday- quieter, less frazzling.

Cisco is totally frazzled, though.

“Barry said you have proof,” Iris says, her hair sticking out in about a hundred different directions from being whisked through the city by Barry at a couple hundred miles an hour. “Not that I need much more proof after what happened this morning.”

Barry and Iris watch the footage after Cisco’s turned on the monitors in the Cortex. Their faces portray the same surge of emotions that had befallen Cisco when he’d seen the recording- apprehension, unease, and an understanding that this can’t be explained away with simple science.

Barry is the first to speak. “Cisco, we shouldn’t have used the Ouija board.”

“You used a _Ouija board_ , in _my house_?” Iris’s jaw grinds from side-to-side, and for a second Cisco is afraid she’s going to transform into some sort of terrifying carnivorous creature and tear him to shreds. “After I specifically warned you _not_ to?”

Eh, Cisco _had_ been the one to suggest it- but Barry had played along too! They’re both as guilty as each other, so Cisco isn’t quite sure why he’s the only one being yelled at.

“We probably invited something evil in,” Barry continues, pacing around the room with his hands tangled in his hair. “Oh, god, what if it’s a demon?” He stops, his eyes going wide. “What if it’s not the house that’s haunted? What if _I’m haunted_?”

Before he can completely understand what he’s doing, Cisco is striding across the room and grabbing Barry’s shoulders tightly, giving him a quick shake. “Snap out of it, man! There are people we can call to rectify this. And you’re not haunted- you’ve been watching too many horror movies.”

Iris snorts. “That’s rich coming from you. Aren’t you, like, the self-professed STAR Labs master of horror?”

“Yes,” Cisco says indignantly. “And it’s a good thing I am. I’ve seen enough movies to know that the cameras were a good idea- at least now we know what we’re dealing with.”

“No we don’t!” Barry flops down into one of the chairs and groans. “We need to call in a professional. I can handle metas- ghosts are a whole different ballgame.” He pulls out his phone and starts to search for _ghost hunters near me_. “I’m calling someone in to get rid of this thing, to exorcise it or whatever.”

The decision only takes a split second to make. As much as Cisco would prefer to handle this _without_ the help of his former rival, he has to admit that he has no idea how to vanquish a spirit. Whilst his contact is by _no_ means a professional, he at least has _some_ understanding of how these things work. He also has a track record of dealing with the unknown.

“I know a guy,” Cisco says, his voice flat. “Someone who can help us.”

“Who?” Barry and Iris ask at the same time.

“I can’t believe I’m saying this aloud,” Cisco continues, begrudgingly whipping out his own phone and scrolling through his contacts, “but we need to call Hartley Rathaway.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cue ghost-hunter Hartley Rathaway! Thanks to everyone who's left kudos or a comment, I appreciate them greatly and they feed my fingers to help me write faster.
> 
> Thanks for reading, stay tuned for the next chapter in the next day or two! :)


	4. Ghost-Phobic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Iris reveals one of Barry's greatest fears to Cisco, and Cisco tries to get in contact with Hartley.

“Hartley Rathaway?” Barry doesn’t sound completely sold on the idea. “How can _he_ help us? Wait- does this have something to do with sound waves? Can he blast the ghost out of the house with his gauntlets?”

“Yeah, sure,” Cisco deadpans, holding his phone up to his ear and listening to the dial tone. “Because that’s exactly how ghosts work. You just _blast_ them out- no, Barry, he _knows_ about these kinds of things.”

Barry quirks an eyebrow. “Yeah, well, forgive me if I find that kind of hard to believe. The dude almost killed me- dude, I don’t want him to know where I live!”

Here he goes again with the whole ‘alternate timeline’ spiel; it doesn’t matter _how_ many times Cisco reminds him that Hartley had a change of heart and is now on their side. Well, Cisco _does_ kind of understand where Barry’s coming from- he’s heard the story of how Hartley almost ripped Barry’s insides to shreds with his sound waves. Still, technically that never happened, and _his_ Hartley would never do that, not now.

Cisco’s glad he hadn’t voiced that aloud- since when is Hartley _his_ Hartley? It’s true, the two of them have kept in contact ever since the time wraith incident- who knows when his expertise could come in handy?

At least _some_ of that expertise may be able to help them with their ghost problem.

“He’s not going to attack you,” Cisco sighs, scrubbing his hand over his face as Hartley’s phone rings out and goes to voicemail. “Hartley knows a lot about the supernatural. He’s basically a Winchester.”

“So Hartley’s a ghost-hunter?” Iris asks.

“It’s just a hobby. A weird hobby.”

 

* * *

 

 

The rest of the day is somewhat uneventful. Barry and Iris hang out at the Lab for a bit, and Cisco tries to call Hartley a couple more times. He resorts to sending a quick text; hopefully Hartley will swallow his ego and offer his help.

Barry decides to go for a quick sprint around the city, and as soon as he leaves, Iris pulls Cisco aside, her face deadly serious.

“I don’t know if you know this,” she says, checking over her shoulder in case Barry returns sooner than expected, “but Barry’s afraid of ghosts.”

“No shit,” laughs Cisco. “He’s been acting strange for days.” At Iris’s glower, he changes his tone. “Uh, I mean…wait, is he, like, ghost-phobic?”

Iris purses her lips. “When he was younger, he was afraid that the Man in Yellow was a ghost. You can’t really blame him- a vibrating speedster can look a bit creepy. He’d have nightmares about it. _Obviously_ we know that’s not the truth now, but…”

“I get it,” Cisco says, and he really does. He _gets_ what it’s like to be deathly afraid of something, to want to avoid it with every fibre of your being. He felt that way about Wellsobard after he shredded Cisco’s heart in an alternate timeline. He’d acted like it was no big deal, like it didn’t really bother him. Kind of like how Barry’s acting now.

“Good,” Iris says, her expression softening. “Listen, so if this turns out to be what we think it is- a ghost- then we might spend a few nights at my Dad’s house, at least until you and Hartley sort it out. Just…” she sighs, chewing on her bottom lip for a second. “Just don’t go feeding him any more ghost theories. He doesn’t need to be even more freaked out than he already is.”

Cisco feels an unexpected pang in his chest from the way Iris is looking out for Barry. The closest he’s ever had to having someone like that- a _soulmate_ , he thinks- would probably be Kendra.

He silently curses Carter and Savage for taking her away from him. She laughed at his jokes, dammit!

“Okay,” Cisco says. He watches Iris leave, then tries to call Hartley again.

No answer.

 

* * *

 

It’s not until later that night, when Cisco is snuggled up on his couch with his laptop researching séance rituals, that he gets a call from Hartley. The sound of his phone ringing startles him so much so that he almost flings his laptop across the room.

“Hello?”

“This had better be important, Ramon.” Hartley sounds snippy, but is that really out of the ordinary? Cisco knows it’s mostly just a front; he’s seen how Hartley’s changed over the past few months, how sensitive he can be. He’s…just not showing it at the moment. “Do you know how busy I’ve been today?”

“Hartley, listen,” Cisco says, trying to keep the excitement from wavering his voice. “You’re gonna like this. I’ve got a ghost for you to bust.”

The line is quiet for a second. Then, “I…might be a bit interested. Tell me more.”

“It’s Barry and Iris’s new apartment. They think it might be haunted, and I’ve got some pretty damning footage. I’m thinking poltergeist.”

“Send it through to me,” Hartley instructs, all business. “Give me the address and I’ll do some digging. I’ll call you back sometime tonight- “

“Just come to my place tomorrow morning,” Cisco interrupts, and, sensing Hartley’s question, says, “STAR is off-limits for the time being.”

Hartley snorts. “What, they don’t trust me there?”

“No, I trust you. I just don’t want to freak Iris and Barry out even more with any of your theories.”

Hartley hums into the phone and hangs up a second later. Ugh, Cisco _hates_ when he does that- would it kill the guy to say ‘goodbye’? He feels a sudden rush of excitement prickle through his veins at the prospect of ghost-hunting with Hartley.

Cisco knows Hartley is attractive. He remembers when, after his first couple of shifts at STAR Labs, he’d approached Caitlin and asked why Hartley had it out for him- he was just trying to do his job. Caitlin had pulled him aside and quietly told him that Hartley was planning on coming out to his parents, and had been fretting about it for weeks. She’s assured him that, whilst Hartley was an asshole, he wasn’t always _that_ bad.

Mulling the word ‘gay’ around in his head as he grasped his phone, Cisco frowns. He likes girls, likes their soft curves and smooth skin. He’d liked Kendra, had felt _something_ for Lisa- hell, he’d even become flustered around Kara- _Supergirl_ \- although that might have been because of her laser-eyes. He’s not gay; he might be something else though.

“Not the time, Cisco,” he says to himself, placing his phone down next to him on the couch and pulls his laptop back into his lap, throwing himself back into his research. “You can worry about this _after_ you bust that ghost.”

He sends the footage from the kitchen to Hartley, not really expecting a response; almost straight away, however, his laptop chimes with an incoming email.

_Thanks._

 

* * *

 

It’s two in the morning when Cisco gets the call. He squints against the blinding light of his phone screen- it’s Barry, and he doesn’t hesitate to answer. It’s kind of an unspoken rule between everyone on Team Flash; if your phone rings, answer it, just in case there’s a meta attack.

Hartley could take a page from their book.

“Barry, what?”

Barry’s voice erupts through the speaker, his voice grating. “Cisco, holy shit- I don’t care what you say, we are _not_ staying in this place any longer.”

“What happened?” Cisco blinks hard, throwing his legs over the edge of his bed and shuffling into the hallway. He makes his way to the kitchen and paws around in the dark for his tablet. Switching it on, he notices that the motion sensors had gone off several times in the past half hour in Barry’s kitchen and hallway. “Calm down, let me have a look.”

Cisco brings up the footage and begins to skim through it. He almost drops his tablet when he notices it. He’s not gonna blame Iris and Barry for wanting to get the hell out of there.

Hartley had better have a damn good idea of what’s going on by morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! This is probably going to turn out to be a bit more cutesy-romantic than I thought it would, but I just can't help my poor little Hartmon soul. 
> 
> Thanks to everyone who's left kudos, it means the world to me. Please don't hesitate to leave a comment if you're enjoying as well!


	5. Soul Patrol

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cisco and Hartley set up their ghost hunting equipment.

Cisco taps his fingers rhythmically on his dining table as he waits for Hartley to arrive. He hasn’t slept a wink since he’d been woken up by Barry’s call earlier in the morning- whether it’s from anxiety or excitement, he’s not quite sure. The footage had scared the hell out of him, and for a moment he half considers leaving Hartley to go at it alone.

He swirls his half-full mug of coffee around lazily, lost in thought. “But what if he needs my help?”

“I don’t need your help.” Hartley pads silently into his apartment- Cisco hadn’t even realised he’d entered- and slings his satchel onto the table, taking a seat across from Cisco. “But you’re welcome to tag along.”

Cisco frowns, looking between the door and the young scientist sitting before him. “How- how did you get in here? The door was locked, I swear.”

Hartley merely shoots him a smirk, pulling a stack of neatly-stapled papers from his bag and handing them over. “I have my ways. I went over the footage and came up with this.”

Cisco flips through the papers, running his hand through his hair as he does so. There are still shots from the footage, with arrows drawn in red pen and notes scribbled in the margins in Hartley’s neat handwriting.

“So, what do you think it is?” Cisco asks.

Hartley folds his arms across his chest. “I don’t know. If we can record some more footage, gather some more _evidence_ , I might be able to deduce the kind of ghost we’re dealing with.”

“Huh,” Cisco says, taking a sip of his cooling coffee. “Barry and Iris are staying at Joe’s until we figure this out, so we basically have free reign of their apartment.”

“Good. I have my equipment in my car downstairs.”

Hartley stands up abruptly and turns on his heel, walking towards the door. He pauses and turns back.

“You coming?”

Hartley’s car is the opposite of what Cisco had expected- although, the more he looks at it, the more he realises it perfectly matches Hartley.

“The Pied Piper-mobile,” Cisco remarks, examining the small, sensible Suzuki. He trails a finger along the clean black surface. “I would’ve expected something a bit more…”

Hartley snorts and opens the passenger door. “What? A bit more ‘Hartley’?”

“A bit _showier_ , but I guess you’ve gotta blend in somehow,” Cisco says. He bends down and looks inside the back window, cupping his hands around his eyes. “Holy shit, Hartley, how much stuff do you have in here? Am I even gonna _fit_?”

Hartley huffs. “Well, do you have a better idea?”

“I do. My van. We can fit everything in the back, _and_ have room to move our legs.”

“Fine.”

Cisco brings his van around and parks it next to Hartley’s car. He jumps out and opens the sliding door, revealing more than enough room to store Hartley’s equipment. He raises an eyebrow, gesturing towards the van, smirking as Hartley groans and starts to lug his equipment from his car.

“We need a sticker for the side,” Cisco comments, hands on hips, scrutinizing his van. “Soul Patrol.”

“Are you going to actually help, or just stand there?”

 

* * *

 

After arriving at Barry and Iris’s apartment and carting the equipment upstairs (Cisco still has no idea what half of it does), Cisco excuses himself to call Barry. He leaves Hartley to set up a few more cameras, making his way out into the hallway. He runs his fingers over the generic wallpaper as he listens to the dial tone.

“Hey, man,” Barry’s voice filters through. Cisco can hear Joe and Wally chatting loudly in the background. “Are you at my place yet? How’s Hartley- is he cooperating?”

Cisco sighs. “Yes, Barry, he’s cooperating. He wants to help- he’s not the same guy you remember. You’ve gotta stop slamming him, man.”

The line is silent for a second, bar the rest of Barry’s family’s faint conversation. When Barry speaks again, he sounds almost apologetic. “Just keep an eye on him.”

“I will,” Cisco says, more so in an avoidance of conflict rather than in agreement. “We’re setting up all of his equipment now. I’ll let you know if anything else happens.”

He tucks his phone back into his pocket and leans his back against the wall, tilting his head back and closing his eyes. He lets out a sigh. Since when does he _hang up_ on Barry? And since when does he get so riled up about someone insulting Hartley? It’s not like the two of them are close friends or anything…even if he kinda wants to be.

“So, Barry’s really got it out for me, huh?”

Cisco opens his eyes at the sound of Hartley’s voice coming from behind him. Damn, he’d heard the conversation- one side of it, at least.

“It’s not like that,” Cisco says, turning to see Hartley standing just outside the open apartment door, holding an EMF detector in one hand and a handheld thermal camera in the other. “He’s just worried. Don’t tell him I told you, but he’s kind of got a thing about ghosts.”

“Don’t we all,” Hartley remarks, jutting out a hip with a deadpan expression on his face. “Phasmophobia is very common. It doesn’t excuse him from at least _trying_ to act civil.”

Cisco shrugs. “Yeah, well, _you_ haven’t always been the most civil person.” At Hartley’s glare, he quickly continues. “But I trust you, man, and I’m the one you’re working with here. So let’s just try and get this done.”

“Alright,” Hartley says, his voice soft, and he disappears back into the apartment. Cisco frowns- he hasn’t _ever_ witnessed Hartley back down from a fight, let alone one with him.

Cisco trots back inside the apartment and shuts the door. He kind of expects to feel an eerie aura when he makes his way to the kitchen; what he _does_ feel is the end of an extension lead hitting him in the face.

“Whoops,” Hartley says, reeling the lead back in like a fishing line. “Sorry, I didn’t realise you were there.”

Cisco rubs his cheek. “God, don’t tell Barry about that- he’ll think you’re trying to kill me.”

Hartley turns back to where he’s connecting one of the camera’s he’d brought to a power-point next to Barry’s toaster, a faint smile playing on his lips. He grunts quietly as he stretches up and tries to reach the back of the camera without having to climb onto the bench.

Cisco watches absent-mindedly as Hartley’s shirt rides up a bit, exposing the creamy skin of his lower back and sides. He averts his eyes as Hartley finishes up with the equipment, pretending to admire his work.

“Nice camera,” Cisco says. “We shouldn’t have any blind spots now.”

“Well, the kitchen seems to be the most active area,” Hartley comments, striding over to the dining table and pawing through the rest of his gear. “I have a feeling we’ll capture some good footage here.”

“You sound like the dude from Ghost Hunters,” Cisco snickers. He joins him at the table and picking up the same thermal camera Hartley had been holding earlier. “This is a cool little gadget.”

Hartley swipes it from his hands and gives him a glare- although there’s no malice behind it. “An _expensive_ little gadget. You break it, you buy it.”

“Relax,” Cisco says, holding up his hands, palms out. “You’re talking to a _mechanical engineer_. These sorts of things are my speciality, Mr. Physics.”

Hartley scoffs lightly. “I’m older, so you have to listen to me.”

“Okay, Piper. What’s next?”

 

* * *

 

Cisco flops down on the couch after he and Hartley finish setting up all of the ghost-hunting equipment Hartley owns. It’s a disturbing amount for someone who makes a living from science.

“Now we wait,” Hartley says, collapsing next to him. “Listen, Cisco, you don’t have to wait around just because I’m here- “

“Contrary to Barry’s beliefs,” Cisco interrupts, rolling his shoulders, “I’m not here to guard you. I’m here to see some ghosts.”

“I don’t know if you’ll actually be _seeing_ any,” Hartley says. “Full body apparitions aren’t common.”

Cisco sighs. “You know what I mean.” He sits up a bit straighter, realisation dawning on him. “Hey, you’re staying the night, right? Because I promised Barry I would, you know, in case anything happens.”

“If you want me to,” Hartley says nonchalantly. He smirks at Cisco. “You don’t want to stay here all on your own?”

Cisco doesn’t even bother trying to defend himself. “Hell no- I’m not going at it alone in a haunted house! One of us _will_ have to take the couch, though.”

“Or,” Hartley compromises, “we could take shifts. That way nobody will have to take the couch- it’s far too stiff.”

It’s a technicality, but Cisco’s pretty sure that Hartley just offered to share a bed with him, to sleep under the same covers as him. His head spins, and he has to bite the inside of his cheek to avoid saying anything stupid.

A creak makes them both jump towards each other. Hartley looks down and blushes.

“It was my foot,” he says sheepishly. “The floorboards- it wasn’t a ghost.”

“Of course,” Cisco says, and he thinks it comes out a little harsh. He wiggles back over to his side of the couch, feeling infinitely less safe with more space between the two of them. “I think we’re both expecting something to happen. We need to distract ourselves, pronto.”

He looks around the small apartment until his eyes drift upon the bookcase. At the bottom is a stack of board games and puzzles. He thinks he can make out _Trivial Pursuit_ \- the perfect game for a couple of nerds.

Hartley looks defeated as Cisco lugs over the box, setting it up with practiced movements. Cisco grins to himself, because what say bonding better than board games in a haunted house?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, I apologise for this being a tad late- the chapter is a little longer than the others, though, so hopefully that makes up for it! This was originally only going to be around 5 or 6 chapters total, but I may have accidentally decided to make it longer. Whoops.
> 
> Anyways, if you're enjoying please don't hesitate to leave kudos or a comment, they make my day and push me to write faster. Thank you for all of the support so far, have a lovely day/night! :)


	6. Salt and Sage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cisco is confronted by Barry and Caitlin, and Hartley has an interesting encounter.

“Out of all the games,” Hartley says, sighing as he leans forward to pluck a block of wood from the wavering tower, “you chose Jenga.”

“Yep.” Cisco bites his lip and winces as he gently tugs away at another block. He holds his breath as the tower leans to the side a bit, but doesn’t fall.

Cisco had been adamant on playing Trivial Pursuit, but to his dismay, he’d opened the box to find it packed full of old birthday and Christmas cards, with not a single game piece in sight. The same went for the rest of the board game boxes- Monopoly, Scrabble, even Cluedo. The only available games had been Jenga and Twister.

Hartley had preferred _anything_ over Twister; Cisco still thinks he’ll get him to play it eventually.

The tower wobbles as Hartley draws out the next piece. He sighs as it collapses. “This isn’t fun.”

“We could watch a movie,” Cisco suggests. “I brought my…” He looks down as his phone buzzes with a message from Barry. “Shit. I have to get to STAR. Will you be okay here on your own?”

Hartley scoffs. “Obviously. Go and do your little hero thing. I promise I won’t ransack the place.”

“Not what I meant,” Cisco murmurs as he quickly gathers his belongings.

 

* * *

 

 

As he drives to STAR Labs, Cisco’s mind will not. Shut. Up.

Had he honestly just played Jenga with Hartley Rathaway- and had _fun_ doing so? As uninterested as Hartley had tried to appear, Cisco had still noticed the way his eyes twinkled behind his glasses every time he successfully removed a block.

“Damn it,” he moans, running a hand through his hair. “Get your life together, man.”

Of _course_ ; it’s Murphy’s law, isn’t it? Anything that can go wrong, _will_ go wrong. It’s so ridiculously inconvenient to be falling for Hartley right now, but Cisco just can’t seem to think with his damn head.

It’s a different feeling to when he’d started crushing on Kendra, though. Maybe it’s something to do with his and Hartley’s history- Cisco’s known him for so long, knows how to predict and read his moods so well that Caitlin had once wondered if he was psychic. All he knows is that his insides feel like mush.

Beautiful, butterfly-ridden mush.

“You took your sweet time,” Barry says as Cisco walks into the Cortex.

“Not all of us have super speed,” Cisco reminds him, leaning against the desk and folding his arms over his chest. “Some of us still have to deal with traffic.”

Barry is clad in his Flash suit, his cowl hanging over the back of his neck. He takes a step towards Cisco and throws him a dirty baseball. Cisco fumbles, but manages to catch it before it hits the ground.

“What’s this?”

“We need you to vibe it,” Caitlin says, stepping out of the med bay. When Cisco opens his mouth, she cuts him off. “I know you want to help. This meta, though, she’s very low-key. We can handle her.”

“But- “

“Cisco,” Barry says, “I’d _really_ prefer it if you just handled the ghost problem. I mean, I love Joe and Wally, but Iris and I _really_ need our own space.”

Despite himself, Cisco feels the edges of his lips begin to quirk up in a smile. “Well, _that’s_ a bit TMI. Look, as long as you _promise_ to call me as soon as anything serious goes down, I guess I can just focus on busting ghosts for now. So, what exactly do you want me to vibe from this?”

Barry explains what he and Caitlin are hoping to learn from the baseball- it involves a story that sounds suspiciously like the plot of _The Sandlot_. Cisco quickly gathers the information and decides that he should be on his merry way back to the apartment.

“I can’t believe you made me drive all the way here just to vibe something,” Cisco grumbles, lobbing the ball hard at Barry, who catches it without so much as a blink. “You could’ve run to the apartment. Saved me some fuel.”

“Uh, that’s not why we wanted you to come _here_ ,” Barry says, bowing his head sheepishly. “I wanted to talk to you about Hartley.”

Cisco throws his arms up in the air. “God, Barry, not this shit again. I’ve told you a million times- Hartley’s changed.”

“I’m not saying he hasn’t! This isn’t about that. It’s, well…” Barry clears his throat and glances at Caitlin. She raises her brows. “You’re my best friend, and I wanna be a good wingman- “

“Wingman?” Cisco groans, turning to Caitlin. “Please tell me this isn’t about me liking Hartley, and _please_ tell me that you didn’t put him up to this.”

Caitlin shrugs minutely. “You guys have chemistry, even Barry admitted it. And you basically just admitted you like him.”

“What- you were _spying_ on us?”

Caitlin taps at her computer, bringing up the feeds of Barry’s apartment on the Cortex screens. “Hey, I’m not the one who rigged the whole place with cameras.” She smiles wickedly. “Who knew Hartley would be so good at Jenga?”

“Okay, I’m gonna stop you there,” Cisco says, holding up a finger. “One, _I_ won at Jenga. Two, I don’t have a thing for Hartley, and I’d appreciate it if you didn’t spy on us. Three, I thought you guys hated him, anyway! Why bother confronting me over a stupid hunch about a guy you can’t stand?”

“It’s complicated,” Barry admits, stepping up to the camera feed of the hallway, watching Hartley skulk towards the bathroom. “At first I wasn’t convinced, but he’s nicer to you than anyone else and, yeah, sure, I don’t exactly _love_ the guy, but I’ll support you either way- holy shit!”

Cisco jerks his head over to the monitor before Barry. Hartley is on the ground in the middle of the hallway his feet scrabbling for purchase on the sleek floor as he struggles to back away from…nothing? Caitlin quickly switches the feed to the kitchen, where the motion sensors are firing off like crazy as Hartley grabs something off the bench. It looks like a long, thick cigar.

Hartley pulls a lighter from his pocket and flicks it a few times, catching the flame with the end of the cigar-like object. He holds it out in front of himself as it begins to smoke, waving it and yelling.

“I have to get back,” Cisco says, his eyes wide. “Something- the ghost, whatever, it’s attacking him.”

“Sure,” Barry says He’s still fixated on the screen, as though he’s in utter disbelief. “O-of course.”

Hartley shrieks, a sound that startles Cisco into a slightly manic bark of laughter. He hadn’t been aware of Hartley’s capacity to make that sound- anything beyond groans and mumbled sarcasm seems beyond him.

“Barry,” Cisco says, and when Barry doesn’t respond to that, he shouts, “Flash!”

Ah, that gets his attention.

“Run me to the apartment,” Cisco orders, grabbing his phone and wallet. He can come back for his keys and other belongings later. “Now!”

The last thing Cisco sees before Barry tugs him away at warp speed is Hartley sprinting madly around the apartment, gripping the cigar-stick like it’s a lifeline and screaming into the cameras for Cisco’s help.

 

* * *

 

Barry drops Cisco at the door of his apartment and gives him a helpless shrug. Cisco’s had _way_ more experience with phobias than the average guy, and so he completely understands Barry’s hesitation. It’d been different when they were playing with the Ouija board- it hadn’t seemed real then. Now, though…

“I know you wanna help, but you can go. I’ll call you if we _really_ need help, I promise,” Cisco assures Barry, watching his friend’s face half-crumple before he’s gone.

Cisco flings open the door and steps inside. The place is chaos- books have been scattered throughout the whole living area, the kitchen bench is once again lined with cutlery and crockery, and the whole place reeks of smoke. Cisco _really_ hopes it’s from Hartley’s cigar-thingy, and not from him spontaneously combusting.

“Hartley?” Cisco calls out tentatively, quietly making his way down the hallway. Each door is open except the bathroom. “Are you in there?”

He knocks on the door and, a second later, it cracks open. Once Hartley recognises Cisco, he pulls him inside and slams the door shut again. Cisco glances over to see the cigar-stick smoking on the side of the vanity.

“I’ve never been so glad to see you,” Hartley admits, pouring salt out from a shaker in a thin line under the door. “Fuck.”

“What the hell happened? And why is there salt everywhere? Why do you have a cigar?”

“I was attacked,” Hartley says, his lips thin. “It trapped me in the damn bathroom! I don’t think it can get in here.”

Cisco looks down. “What, because of the salt?”

“I don’t know, but I’m not taking any chances.” Hartley sighs and glances at the cigar-stick. “I tried burning sage to cleanse the place, but it didn’t work. Nothing has worked.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spooky! Thanks for reading- I hope everyone's enjoying the story so far. If you are, I really appreciate kudos and comments to let me know! Hopefully the next chapter should be up in a few days; until then, stay safe and have a great weekend! :D


	7. A Nickname

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cisco comes to Hartley's rescue, and Hartley is nicer than usual.

“It doesn’t make any sense,” Hartley says, adjusting his glasses in front of the bathroom mirror. “I was sitting right next to the EMF detector- it should have gone off, but it didn’t. The thermal cam didn’t pick anything up, and the motion sensors didn’t go off until _after_ I was attacked.”

“You think it’s messing with our tech?” Cisco asks, subconsciously palming his phone in his pocket.

Hartley shrugs, pauses, then shakes his head. “Not permanently, at least. The cameras were still working- I don’t think anything else was damaged.” He sighs. “Well, except my reputation.”

Cisco snorts, not quite sure if Hartley’s being serious. “Your reputation as what, a ghost-hunter? Hart, please, you’re not exactly a Warren.”

Oh, _god_ , it hadn’t even registered until after the words had come out. _Hart_? What, now he’s got a _nickname_?

Cisco chances a look at Hartley’s reflection in the mirror and immediately wishes he hadn’t; Hartley’s face doesn’t reveal a thing. He doesn’t look angry or upset, not happy or even embarrassed. Cisco feels his hand creeping up to massage the area around his heart, and he doesn’t even try to stop it.

“Sorry,” he says. “I won’t call you that if you don’t want me to.”

Hartley watches him through the reflection before turning around, leaning against the basin as he stares at Cisco. The slight smile that spreads across his lips makes Cisco’s stomach do a triple front-flip. “I don’t mind.”

“That’s, uh, good,” Cisco says meekly. His mind is buzzing with Barry’s words from earlier; _he’s nicer to me than to anyone else_. What would Hartley’s reaction have been if it’d been Barry, or even Caitlin, who’d given him the nickname? “We should probably leave the bathroom.” _Because it feels like it just got a whole lot smaller_.

“Right,” Hartley agrees, grabbing the still-smouldering sage stick. “It’s probably a mess out there.”

Cisco nods. “Yeah, it is, but we can clean it up. Should we leave the salt in the doorway just in case we have to make a hasty retreat? It seems pretty safe in here.”

“Yeah. I think we’ll be okay for a while, though. Spirits use up a _lot_ of energy when they manifest or move objects. I don’t think we’ll be seeing any sign of it for a while now.”

Cisco opens the door first, sticking his head out and glancing down the hallway. The place is silent; he feels brave enough to step over the line of salt, careful to leave it intact. Does he even believe that a simple line of salt is enough to keep a ghost from entering? Does Hartley? It sounds like some weird black magic shit to him.

Cisco gestures for Hartley to follow him out into the kitchen area, where Hartley hums thoughtfully at the sight of the pots and pans lined up on the bench.

“It seems to have a penchant for cooking,” Hartley says.

“What do you think it is?” Cisco asks, casting his eyes over the dining and living rooms. “Like, what kind of ghost?”

Hartley picks up the EMF detector from the coffee table in front of the couch and starts it up. “I’m not sure. This still works perfectly, by the way.”

Cisco glances over at where he’d set up a microphone recorder earlier in the day, hoping to catch some EVP audio. It probably hasn’t caught anything- none of the other devices seem to have. If anything, the EMF detector should have at least recorded a _slight_ reading. Cisco frowns; this is nothing like Ghost Adventures.

“Plan of attack,” Cisco announces, disconnecting the USB drive from the audio recorder and handing it to Hartley. “We’re going to trawl through the footage of you being attacked while it’s quiet. We’re gonna make notes, we’re gonna listen to this and pick out any suspicious audio, and we’re gonna figure out what kind of ghost this is. Deal?”

“Deal.”

 

* * *

 

 

Cisco’s neck feels like it’s been corkscrewed. He tries to rouse himself from unconsciousness, succeeding only when he simultaneously feels a soft shoulder shift under his hair and hears a gentle murmur from somewhere next to him.

“…Cisco? Ramon, are you there?”

Cisco jerks forward, glancing wildly around the room. His first thought is that he’d been knocked out by the ghost, dragged into some other weird spirit dimension. Who knows what he’s capable of, especially with how spooky his vibes can be.

“Hey, relax.”

Cisco blanches as he realises he’d fallen asleep on Hartley’s shoulder in front of Barry’s television. They’d been sifting through footage and audio for _hours_ , making notes of every single piece of ghostly evidence they could find. It had been _so_ boring.

So boring, in fact, that Cisco had decided to take a cat nap on top of _Hartley_.

Blushing, Cisco looks everywhere except at Hartley. He’d been tired, but _surely_ not tired enough to fall asleep on his top of his former nemesis. Further adding to his confusion is the fact that Hartley hadn’t objected to being used as a human cushion. It’s the closest Cisco’s ever been to the guy and he can’t help but notice he smells like sweetened coffee.

“Sorry,” Cisco says, swallowing as he straightens himself out. He’s not going to stoop so low as to seem _embarrassed_. “I promise I don’t drool. What…why didn’t you wake me up?”

“You look like death,” Hartley says nonchalantly. “Thought I’d better let you sleep.”

Cisco’s chest clenches almost painfully; glancing at the clock on the wall to the right of the television, he calculates that he’s been out for about twenty minutes. Twenty minutes of Hartley letting him rest against his shoulder _despite_ his apparent disdain. Since when did he get so…nice?

“Ha ha. Did you find any more evidence?”

Hartley nods, fiddling with the small notebook in his lap. “Yeah. I’m having difficulty distinguishing the _type_ of spirit, though. All of its traits…well, they’re a bit contradictory.”

Cisco looks down at the notebook as Hartley hands it to him. He’s drawn up a table, with pros and cons for each type of ghost. A couple look promising.

“A poltergeist?” Cisco asks. “I mean- it _has_ been throwing things around.” He glances at the mess they’ve yet to clean up. Is there any point to tidying up, though, if the ghost is probably just going to make a mess all over again?

Hartley takes the notebook back and chews on his thumbnail as he rereads his notes. “Poltergeists usually attach to people, though. I’d say its attached to Barry, but he’s not here, and the ghost still is. Then I thought it might be a residual ghost, living out its final hours over and over. It would explain the obsession with emptying the kitchen cupboards and stacking the crockery on the bench.”

“I’ve heard of them,” Cisco says, “but I thought they didn’t interact with people.”

“They don’t. It’s another dead end.” He frowns at Cisco’s snicker. “I don’t think this ghost wants to hurt us, though. I think it just wants our attention.”

“I used a Ouija board,” Cisco blurts out. “Back when all of this first started. I know it’s bad, it was a shitty idea- it didn’t even _work_ , but- “

Hartley cuts him off. “Normally I’d be furious, but I don’t think you’ve invited anything else into this house. I’m sure there’s only one spirit, and it was here before you used the board. Just…” he looks at Cisco with eyes that aren’t usually so emotional. “Don’t do it again. You don’t know _what_ could come through that board.”

“What, like a demon?” Cisco’s eyes widen. “You don’t think this ghost is a- “

“Don’t say it, and no, I don’t. I think this is a lost spirit looking for attention.”

Cisco thinks for a moment. “Maybe they need our help.”

“Or,” Hartley adds, “maybe they don’t know they’re dead. Either way, we need to research this place. We need lists of past owners, and we need to figure out if we’re the first ones to deal with this spirit. The neighbours might know.”

“I’ll ask around tomorrow,” Cisco says, glancing out the window at the dusky sky. “As for past owners, I have a friend who knows her way around accessing old records.”

Hartley smirks. “Is her name Felicity Smoak, by any chance?”

“How did you- “

“You’re not the only one with connections.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, guys! 
> 
> I've always been into researching the paranormal, so I've used a bit of 'ghost-hunting' terminology:  
> EMF Detector: measures fluctuations in electromagnetic fields, an apparent sign of potential ghosties roaming around.  
> EVP: electronic voice phenomenon, whereby a recording device picks up disembodied voices.
> 
> I also couldn't help but throw in some Hartmon snippets, of which there will be more coming soon.
> 
> Have a good week. :)


	8. Crush

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cisco manages to have a rest and contemplates his feelings about Hartley.

Hartley takes the first shift that night, insisting that Cisco is useless without sleep, which he totally is. As much as he likes to drink triple shot lattes and pretend that he’s invincible, missing out on just a single night’s worth of good, solid sleep really tends to fuck him up. Sure, he’d _slept_ the night before, but dozing off at one in the morning and being woken up at three by a frantic Barry doesn’t entirely count as a good rest.

Cisco is so, _so_ glad that Barry and Iris had decided to invest in a brand new bed, because it feels as though he’s just landed on a cloud; to be honest, though, he could probably fall asleep on the floor and still be comfortable in his sleep-deprived state.

The loud tapping of a keyboard from out in the living area is strangely soothing. Cisco had left the bedroom door open _just in case_ he needs to get to Hartley quickly, and the sounds of him researching and working on theories, of him brewing a fresh pot of coffee and crunching down on salt and vinegar chips, are familiar and grounding. It takes him back to the glory days of STAR Labs, back when Cisco was a clumsy young engineer, constantly being berated by a slightly-dicker version of Hartley.

_Okay_ , Cisco admits to himself, rolling onto his side and bringing the blankets up to his neck- everyone knows that blankets are the first line of defence against things that go bump in the night. _A massively-dickier version of Hartley_. The Hartley he knows now…he’s actually a pretty cool guy. Kinda snappy and _very_ uptight, but cool nevertheless.

“You’re awake.”

Cisco rolls over to face the doorway, where Hartley is leaning against the frame with his arms crossed tightly over his chest. Cisco hadn’t noticed the sudden quietness of the apartment, and Hartley’s presence surprises him. He guesses his sleep shift must be over and prepares to drag himself from the comfort of the warm bed.

“Not so fast,” Hartley says. “It’s only been half an hour.”

“Oh. I kinda just assumed you must want to take a nap.”

Hartley shakes his head slowly. “I just wanted to check up on you- you know, make sure you haven’t had any contact with the spirit.”

“Oh,” Cisco says again. Hartley, checking up on _him_? Like he’s genuinely worried for Cisco’s wellbeing? “Yeah, I’m…fine, I guess.” He frees one of his arms from his warm cocoon and waves it around nonchalantly. “Insomnia, you know how it is.”

“I do, actually.”

“Really?”

Hartley’s soft smile is barely visible in the dim lighting. “Why do you think I wanted to take the first shift? I have trouble sleeping at the best of times, let alone when I’m stuck inside a haunted apartment.”

“You’re not scared, are you?” Cisco drawls, a shit-stirring grin melting across his mouth.

“No! I’m perfectly capable of handling a paranormal investigation, thank you very much. It’s you I’m worried about.”

Smirking, Cisco leans up on his elbow. He’s enjoying watching Hartley squirm in the doorway. “You’re worried about me? Too sweet.”

“Ugh!” Hartley chokes, whirling around and disappearing back down the hall. Cisco can hear him yelling from the living room. “I don’t care _what_ happens to you, Ramon!”

Cisco smiles, sinking back into the cushy mattress and burrowing his face into the pillow, the smell of freshly washed sheets a simple comfort. He starts to think about Hartley, tentatively mulling over the idea of actually _liking_ him. Not just as a friend, but…

_Damn_ , he thinks, letting out a muffled sigh. _Might as well admit to it._

He makes a mental list of everything he likes and dislikes about Hartley Rathaway. He admires his tenacity; the way he strives to achieve whatever he puts his mind to, no matter what the cost. He admires his intelligence and the fact he _knows_ he’s an accomplished scientist, but doesn’t shove it in anyone’s face. His soft face, pretty eyes, and that rare little smile that’s worth every scowl and sneer, just to see it _once_.

Before he gets too wrapped up in the _likes_ , Cisco moves onto the dislikes. What about Hartley really grinds his gears? Well, it’d have to be the way he wears a mask every day, not letting anyone get too close for fear of them realising how much he really cares. For some reason, he’s starting to let that mask drop around Cisco, has been for a while. If only he’d realise he doesn’t have to hide around Cisco- what’s the worst he could do?

“Asshole,” Cisco grumbles to himself. “I’m not gonna _hurt_ him.”

 

* * *

 

Cisco dreams about falling- from where, he can’t tell. All he knows is that he’s plummeting through the air rapidly, his limbs flailing and fingers grasping for _anything_ to grip on to. The ground rushes up to meet him. Just as he’s about to die an _extremely_ messy death, he jerks to consciousness.

“Holy…” Cisco takes a breath, blinking hard to clear the sleep from his vision. He rolls over, groaning, and almost blanches when he notices Hartley in the doorway again. “Are you watching me _sleep_?”

Hartley huffs out a laugh. “You wish. It’s time for your shift,” he says shortly, his eyes drooping from exhaustion.

Cisco rolls out of bed and drags himself to the doorway, where Hartley is still watching him. God, he looks so tired; it almost makes Cisco feel _okay_ about giving up the bed. “All yours.”

Hartley brushes past him with a murmured, “thanks,” and sets about rearranging the pillows. He glances at Cisco, who blushes and disappears down the hallway.

“Idiot,” Cisco says, collapsing on the lounge amongst Hartley’s scattered papers and books. “You’re an idiot. Can’t you just act normal?”

It’s two in the morning, so he might as well just stay awake now and let Hartley wake up of his own accord. No use swapping shifts at five or six- Cisco probably wouldn’t be able to get back to sleep now anyways.

He launches himself into his research, reading all of Hartley’s notes and reading the same webpages over and over again. One site in particular catches his attention; it’s a wiki-type page with information on malevolent spirits and demons. God, he _really_ wishes he hadn’t used the Ouija board, even if Hartley had been sure it’d been harmless. He finds himself spiralling, watching exorcism videos until he has goosebumps on his neck and arms.

After a couple of hours of this, Cisco decides to turn on his voice recorder and ask a few questions in hope of capturing an EVP recording. Maybe if he can satisfy his fear and convince himself that this is a simple ghost, nothing more, he’ll be able to relax.

He switches it on.

“Four a.m.,” Cisco says clearly, not quite loud enough to wake Hartley up (he hopes). “This will be the very first Cisco-conducted EVP session. This,” he gestures to the microphone, “will pick up any sound you make. I’m going to ask some questions, and it’d be really swell if you could answer them.

“First of all; is there anyone in this apartment?”

Cisco waits for a minute with baited breath; he’s not overly worried about the lack of response, knowing that he might pick something up when listening to the recording later on. He asks a couple more questions, waiting patiently after each one, until he feels the back of his neck start to tingle, almost as though someone’s standing behind him.

He glances behind himself from his position on the couch and half-expects to come face-to-face with a demonic shadow. Instead, the apartment is still eerily quiet. Unable to move for a second, Cisco finds himself relaxing after he hears Hartley snuffle and murmur something in his sleep. Thank _god_ he’d left the door open too. It makes him feel less alone.

“What is your purpose here?” Cisco asks slowly, his eyes darting around the room sporadically. A creak from the direction of the dining room has him on his feet with his back pressed against the wall before he can even think. “Why won’t you leave this place?”

Another creak sends a painful chill down his spine, and he feels a crushing weight on his chest. He isn’t sure if it’s his imagination or not.

_Call for Hartley_ , Cisco’s brain supplies as he keeps his eyes sharply focused towards the dining table area. _He can help_.

_No!_ Another part of Cisco’s mind argues. _You can handle this on your own. You’re a hero, a_ brave _hero, damn it!_

A third creak, much closer this time, jerks Cisco into a state of hypersensitivity. He has a second to think, _oh shit_ , before he’s lurched into full-on vibe mode. The last thing he hears before everything turns blue is horrifying.

It’s a croaky, wet snarl.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not another cliffhanger! I know I use them, like, every other chapter, but they're just so fun. Hopefully everyone enjoyed this chapter, if you did let me know! Feedback and all that good stuff really makes my day.
> 
> Have a good week. :)


	9. I Like Both

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hartley and Cisco try to make sense of Cisco's strange experience, and Cisco trusts Hartley to keep a big secret.

“…hey, snap out of it…”

Cisco can feel the hard floor underneath his knees, can feel someone’s hands on his shoulders, shaking him furiously. He’s stuck in a kind of post-vibe haze; it’s the worst he’s ever had. Splashes of blue squirm across his eyelids, weaving their way back into his brain. He cracks his eyes open.

Hartley is crouched in front of him, his face the very _definition_ of worry. He gives Cisco a final, resounding shake, before standing up and stretching out a hand. Cisco takes it, allowing himself to be led to the couch.

“I knew you cared,” Cisco says once he finds his voice. “You’re a bad liar.”

Hartley’s face stiffens. “We’ll talk about that later. For now, I need to know what you saw. Christ, Cisco, you _screamed_.”

“Sorry,” Cisco mumbles. “Sorry. Half the time I can control the whole _vibing_ thing, but the other half…” He glances around the room, suddenly feeling _very_ nervous. “Hart, I think I did something bad.”

“What?”

“The Ouija board. I _know_ you said nothing evil came through, but I have the feeling something actually did.” Cisco carts his hands through his hair, straightening it back out and smoothing it down. “Dude, it wasn’t the vibe that freaked me out- all I saw was a whole lot of darkness. It was the damn sound I heard before it.”

Leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees, Hartley looks Cisco straight in the eye. “What did you hear?”

“A growl. It sounded like a _pig_ or something. Like a cross between a pig and- god, I don’t know, a dinosaur? It was all demonic and shit.”

“Fuck,” Hartley curses, slipping his fingers up behind his glasses and rubbing his eyes. Cisco isn’t sure when he’d had the time to fumble them on between being asleep in the bedroom and coaxing Cisco from his vibe in the living area, but he’s glad he did. “Cisco, this isn’t good.”

“Could there be two spirits?” Cisco asks, his mind rattling away in a state of near-panic. “I mean, the place was already haunted _before_ the Ouija board- you know, all the stuff in the kitchen.”

Hartley nods. “I mean, it’s more than likely. Last night, when I was attacked, I couldn’t help but think it seemed a bit out of character for the kitchen ghost.”

“The kitchen ghost,” Cisco echoes. “Okay, so, we have the kitchen ghost, and the…”

“The apparition,” Hartley says tautly.

 

* * *

 

Hartley pauses the earlier footage of the living room about a minute before it shows Cisco vibing. He sighs and looks at Cisco, who’s perched nervously on the armrest of the couch, his feet tapping rhythmically.

“I’m fine,” Cisco says automatically, although even he can hear how flat he sounds. “Play it.”

Tilting his head to the side, Hartley gives Cisco another look. “Honestly, if you don’t want to watch it- “

“Dude. Let’s just watch it.”

Hartley presses play on the video, shuffling closer to Cisco so he can see the laptop screen properly. Cisco thanks the high heavens that he’d synced the security cameras over Barry’s Wi-Fi network as well; it feels somewhat relieving to not be the sole viewer of the footage, to know that Hartley can watch it of his own accord as well.

Cisco finds himself watching Hartley rather than the footage. It’s not because the low lighting contours his face in an almost irresistible way, no…it must be because what the cameras have captured is truly terrifying. He thinks he should be more alarmed, but this whole situation still feels surreal. Especially the brush of the back of Hartley’s hand against his thigh; he hopes it’s a reassuring gesture rather than an accident.

“There!” Hartley points towards the screen, where Cisco can see…nothing. “Do you see it? That shadow creature!”

“I didn’t see anything at the time,” Cisco murmurs, his attention on the footage again as he searches the screen for whatever it is that Hartley can see. “Wait, I _still_ can’t see anything. Hart, what are you talking about?”

“Spirits have ways of concealing themselves,” Hartley explains, pausing the video once again and swivelling to look up at Cisco. “This… _thing_ , it’s almost like a shadow, right?”

“…right?

Hartley continues, not once looking away. “Have you ever heard of the shadow dimension?”

“Uh,” Cisco says, blinking in confusion. “Are you saying there’s a _whole_ other world parallel to ours? Is this like some _Stranger Things_ shit?”

“No, I’m just using it to help explain,” Hartley says. “I don’t know if it exists, or if heaven and hell or any number of deities exist, either. It’s just easier for me to imagine it to be real- it helps me to make sense of all these spirits I come across.”

“All these spirits,” Cisco echoes. He cocks a brow. “Hartley, do you see ghosts, _spirits,_ like these often?”

Hartley shrugs, his cheeks dusted with a rosy colour. “Not _often_ , often. Just…every now and then. I don’t know why, but I guess I’ve come to accept it.”

“Huh. Do you think it was the particle accelerator that caused it? I mean,” Cisco glances at Hartley’s ears, where he can _just_ see the small devices nestled inside. “It’s possible, right?”

“Wrong. It’s happened ever since I was a child.” Hartley blushes further, a hand reaching up to self-consciously touch his ear. Cisco _really_ wishes he wouldn’t worry so much about what people think of him, but he kind of gets what it’s like to be stared at, even if it _is_ for entirely different reasons. “I’ve always been…never mind, it’s stupid. Let’s just figure out how to get rid of this new entity.”

Cisco shakes his head, feeling his forehead scrunch up. “Come on, tell me. What, are you worried I’m not gonna believe you? Hart, we’re literally hunting for ghosts.”

“I suppose.” Hartley sighs, suddenly looking exhausted and in desperate need of a hug. Cisco curls his fingernails into the palms of his hands. “When I was a child, I was always surrounded by death- grandparents, cousins, you know how it is. I…I was probably about seven when I started to see my dead family members. I kept it a secret for a long time, but I just…couldn’t, not anymore. My parents sent me to therapy when I was twelve. They told me I was deluded.”

“Assholes,” Cisco murmurs under his breath, and Hartley merely nods in agreement.

Hartley continues, his voice impossibly fragile. “So I pretended I’d just had some sort of stress-induced breakdown. It was just easier that way. I convinced everyone I was okay and life was normal again. Well,” he laughs humourlessly, “until I told my parents I was gay.”

His last sentence strikes a chord with Cisco. Before he’s even realised it, he’s opening his mouth and confiding in his one-time enemy. It’s his biggest secret. “Hartley, you gotta help me. I thought I liked girls, but I think I’ve been _lying_ to myself- I mean, I think I like both…” He pauses, mouth still open, and begins to backtrack. “I mean, oh, god…”

Lips twitching upwards at the corners, Hartley’s face smooths out in what almost looks like…relief? Confirmation? “What, I tell you my life story, and you come out to me?”

Cisco drops his head into his hands and closes his eyes so tightly that splotches of colour invade the usual black of the back of his eyelids. He groans incoherently, before uncurling and shrugging his shoulders. “I know it probably doesn’t sound like a big deal to you, but- “

“What, because I’m already out?” Hartley scoffs, but not in an unfriendly manner. “ _Cisquito_ , it’s not an easy thing to admit. I know how hard it is, and I think you’re very brave.”

“You’re the first person I’ve told,” Cisco admits, feeling a bit sick. He doesn’t regret it, though. Somehow it feels easier to confide in Hartley than anyone else, and not just about this matter. He can’t explain it, but he just feels this magnetic _attraction_ to Hartley, not just in a sexual way (although that’s more than warranted).

He _trusts_ him, and that’s not something that Cisco finds easy to come by.

Cisco vaguely remembers they’re dealing with _more than one_ ghost-slash-entity-slash-hopefully-not-a-demon, but he’s so overcome with relief and damn _acceptance_ that he decides these fucking spirits can wait. For another couple of minutes, at least, until he can stop sneaking grateful looks at a once-again research-absorbed Hartley.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oops, it's been longer than usual in between updates, so I apologise for that! Hartman is officially in progress, and I hope this chapter was enjoyable! Some of the topics discussed between Cisco and Hartley are a bit sensitive, so I hope I did them justice.
> 
> If you're liking the story, please don't hesitate to leave a comment- they make my world go round. Have a great week, and Merry Christmas or Happy Hanukkah to anyone who celebrates. :)


	10. Frequency

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hartley formulates a plan, and Barry and Iris are growing antsy.

 

“So, what,” Cisco asks, taking a half-hearted bite of his toast, “are we gonna perform an exorcism or something? You know, _‘the power of Christ compels you’_?”

Hartley ignores the cross Cisco makes with his fingers. “That wouldn’t work. No, we need to cleanse the house, _Cisquito_.”

The nickname that would once have caused Cisco to bristle now makes fireworks explode and fizzle throughout his whole nervous system. He chews on his lip for a minute, waiting for Hartley to continue. When the room remains quiet, he clears his throat. “Uh… _how_ exactly do we do that?”

“We have most of what we need,” Hartley says, checking off the list on his fingers. “Salt, sage, a medium- “

“Medium? Really?” Cisco raises an eyebrow. “Come on I can think of a _way_ cooler word than _medium_.”

“Like what?”

“Like…clairvoyant?”

Hartley shrugs, half-nodding in agreement. “Okay. _Clairvoyant_ , then. Don’t expect me to invent a new moniker, though. I like Pied Piper.”

Cisco hesitates, thinks _screw it_ , and reaches out to poke Hartley in the side, revelling in the startled _chirp_ he manages to evoke from him. “Okay then, Piper, what else do we need for the Banishing of the Apparition ceremony?”

“Music,” Hartley says, and at Cisco’s quizzical expression adds, “more specifically, high-vibrational music.” He smiles- a rare sight. “I’ll let you choose.”

Smiling back, Cisco vaguely wonders what high-vibrational music could possibly be useful for in this situation; he guesses it’s similar to the salt and sage situations. It’s just something that _works_ , that’s meant to protect them.

“The vibrations should disrupt the apparition’s ability to travel between the shadow dimension and our world, theoretically at least,” Hartley mutters, mostly to himself. “Again, I’m not even sure if the shadow dimension exists, but it’s worth a shot.”

“Huh.” Cisco stands up, glancing around the room _just_ to make sure they’re not being watched from the shadows. “Do you think…I mean, you’re hypothesising that travelling between dimensions is based on varying vibrational frequencies, right?”

“I guess. I’m still unsure- “

Cisco waves his hands in front of Hartley’s face. “Dude, are you forgetting that vibrations are _kinda_ my specialty? You know, seeing as how I’m Vibe?”

“Cute,” Hartley drawls, and even though he’s being sarcastic, Cisco’s heart skips a beat at the word. God, he’s got it _bad_. “You do realise you’re talking to the Pied Piper here? I created the _original_ gauntlets.”

“Yeah, well…” For once, Cisco can’t think of a witty retort. “Anyway, what if I can use my powers to somehow attack the apparition? Maybe if I can sonic boom that bitch- “

He trails off as he looks back over at Hartley. The scientist is sitting stock-still, staring across the room at seemingly nothing. For a short, slightly manic moment, Cisco wonders if Hartley is _vibing_ \- it certainly looks like it, from what he’s been told _he_ looks like when doing so- before he remembers that Hartley isn’t even a metahuman.

“What- “

“Quiet,” Hartley whispers roughly, his eyes not leaving the dark corner. “Don’t move. It’s here.”

Cisco’s breath hitches. His eyes flicker between Hartley and whatever it is that the other is seeing. Slowly and _very_ subtly, he watches as Hartley reaches out towards the small end table next to the couch, grabbing something that Cisco can’t quite see from his position on the other side.

In one swift movement, Hartley has thrown a handful of something across the room- a handful of salt. It scatters across the floor harmlessly.

“It’s gone,” Hartley says after a solemn minute, his shoulders visibly slumping as he turns to look at Cisco. “For now, at least. It’s weak from spending too much time in our world, and the salt was enough to scare it back to wherever it came from for now.”

“Why don’t we just line the whole house with salt?” Cisco asks. “Wouldn’t that keep it out?”

“Only temporarily,” Hartley says. He rolls a couple of grains between his thumb and index finger. “As soon as the salt is removed, it’ll be able to return.” Cisco must be wearing an odd expression, because Hartley’s face softens and he scoots across the couch. Their legs brush together, but it’s not awkward in the slightest. “It won’t hurt either of us, _Cisquito_. It…might be safer to go to STAR Labs in the meantime, though, just to be cautious.”

 

* * *

 

As soon as Cisco steps into the Cortex, he’s hit with a gust of wind that whips his hair into his eyes and sends him stumbling back in surprise; a firm hand keeps him from falling flat on his ass.

“Uh, thanks,” he says, blushing when Hartley is slow to take his hand from the small of his back. “Hey, Bar.”

Barry looks so damn hopeful that Cisco almost doesn’t want to tell him what’s happening. “Cisco, hey, did you get rid of, I mean…is the place still haunted?”

“Well,” Cisco says dubiously, rubbing the back of his neck. “We’re, uh, working on it.”

“Oh,” Barry. His brows knit together. “You _will_ be able to get rid of it though, right?”

Hartley clears his throat. “Barry, I can’t make any promises. The situation is more… _complicated_ than we initially thought. It turns out that we’re dealing with two spirits now. The kitchen ghost and the apparition.”

“Two spirits…” Barry murmurs, turning away and stalking to the far wall. “Two…how the hell did this happen, guys? What do they want from me?” His voice is a little desperate- Cisco knows he needs to defuse his paranoia before it gets out of hand.

“They’re not after you, Barry,” Cisco says, following his friend and placing a hand on his shoulder. Fuck, he feels terrible- if he hadn’t used that _damn_ Ouija board, they’d only be dealing with one ghost- a calm, possibly _friendly_ ghost, instead of a demonic shadow thing. “Don’t worry, we’re gonna get rid of them faster than you can say _Flash_.”

“Metaphorically,” Hartley adds, hovering awkwardly near the desk in the centre of the room, as though he’s worried he might encroach on their friendship. “I have a plan to get rid of the apparition, at least.”

Barry combs his hand through the front of his hair, visibly relaxing as Iris walks into the Cortex carrying a grease-stained Big Belly Burger bag. She squints suspiciously at Hartley and Cisco, but doesn’t say a word as she dumps the paper bag on the desk and makes her way over to Barry, wrapping an arm around his waist in an almost possessive gesture.

“Good or bad news?” Iris asks, her dark eyes glinting with hope.

Frowning apologetically, Cisco steps back to where Hartley is curiously watching them. Hartley gives him a frustrated smile- more of a grimace, really- and his eyes take on a pleading quality. Cisco sighs; of course _he’s_ the sacrificial lamb. There’s really nothing more simultaneously terrifying and guilt-provoking than taking on a worried Iris.

It’s another confirmation that he’s falling _hard_ for the guy, that he’s willing to bear the brunt of Barry and Iris’s anger so Hartley doesn’t have to.

“Neutral news?” Cisco tries, shrugging. Iris bites her lip and looks up at Barry, instinctively pulling him closer, and Cisco feels a pang of understanding. All she wants is for Barry to be happy and safe, to not feel in danger in his own home. “Hartley and I have a plan, so you guys just hang tight, okay? You’ll be back in your apartment in no time.”

“I hope so,” Iris says, sounding more tired than angry. She nudges Barry in an attempt to make him smile. “It’s a bit awkward living with your foster family-slash-in laws, right, Bar?”

“Heh.” Barry manages one of his trademark grins. “Yeah, the whole idea of finding our own place was to actually _live_ in our own place.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, it's taken me forever and a day (compared to usual) for me to get my crap together and write this chapter, so I apologise for that! The next chapter is already half-written, so expect that fairly soon (in the next couple of days).
> 
> Thanks for reading and I hope you're enjoying the story! It's already twice as long as I had originally planned, oops.
> 
> Here's a little sneak peek of the next chapter, because why not:
> 
> _"If you hadn’t called me then I’d still be very lonely. And I’m not lonely.” He takes a deep breath. “Not anymore.”_


	11. Bad Timing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hartley and Cisco spend time alone at the lab.

Iris and Barry leave soon after Barry has eaten his fill of Big Belly Burger- something about movie night at the West house. As much as he loves them, Cisco is kind of glad to see them go. He can only take so much guilt in one day.

“We can use my workroom to get everything ready,” Cisco offers as he and Hartley walk down the hall, their arms full of an assortment of _interesting_ items. “I’ll sort out the frequency stuff while you sort out the magic stuff.”

“It’s not magic,” Hartley huffs. “That’s like calling metahumans… _wizards_ , or something. Everything I’m doing has a perfectly reasonable explanation.”

“So did everything at Hogwarts,” Cisco murmurs to himself, smirking. “I’d call _that_ magic.”

Before arriving at STAR earlier, Cisco and Hartley had gone on a long-winded public transport journey to Cisco’s apartment in order to retrieve Hartley’s little car, seeing as how Cisco had abandoned his at STAR the previous day in favour of Barry’s much quicker mode of travel. As it turns out, Hartley keeps some pretty interesting shit in his car- spare sticks of sage, various incenses, an unhealthy amount of rock salt, and even a tiny library of books on the paranormal.

Cisco shakes out his arms after dumping a load of books and smudging sticks on his desk, watching as Hartley sorts through the items and mutters to himself. Cisco has the sudden urge to swipe the desk clean and throw Hartley on top of it. He’s glad Hartley isn’t telepathic, because things would be _so_ awkward.

“Get started on that high-vibrational music,” Hartley says, and Cisco blushes as he realises he’s been caught staring. “We don’t have all day.”

“Right,” Cisco says, taking a seat at his computer and performing a quick check of the apartment. “None of the motion sensors have gone off since we left.”

Hartley hums. “That doesn’t surprise me. It’s probably conserving its energy for when we return.”

“That sounds horrible,” Cisco says, frowning as he tugs on his headphones and starts to browse through some music. “Wow, this stuff’s actually pretty nice. Relaxing.”

“It is,” Hartley agrees. He turns away from the desk, leaning against it and looking _far_ too awkward for the former heir to the Rathaway fortune. “Hey, Cisco…remember what you told me earlier?”

“I told you a lot of things earlier, Hart. You’ll have to be a bit more specific.”

“About your sexuality.”

Cisco flinches automatically, his fingers stilling over the keyboard. Trust Hartley to just come right out and _say it_. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have laid all that on you.”

“No, I’m glad you did,” Hartley says, gesturing for Cisco to join him at the desk again. “When I came out, I had _nobody_ …well, except for Doctor Wells and some scientists here and there. I became very isolated, filled with self-loathing. I just…couldn’t believe my family would _abandon_ me without so much as a second thought.”

Cisco fumes silently; not only due to Hartley’s parents being such dicks, but also because of his _own_ parents having similarly archaic values. The only good thing to come of him being so distant from his family is that he can keep secrets _way_ easier.

“Finding yourself, figuring out who you are…” Hartley says quietly. “It’s not easy for anyone. It’s even harder so when you’re part of a minority.”

“Dude, tell me about it,” Cisco says, blowing his hair out of his eyes as he settles against the desk next to Hartley. “Sucks being alone.”

“You’re not alone, though.” Hartley reaches out a hesitant hand, placing it on Cisco’s shoulder and squeezing. Cisco holds his breath. “I mean, if you ever need to _talk_ , or- “

Cisco turns to face Hartley. They’re close, _so_ close. He bites gently on his bottom lip, unsure of what to say.

Hartley stutters a bit- his usual suave, unashamed persona is nowhere to be seen. “O-or, we could, uh…” He laughs nervously, a rich sound that makes Cisco feel all the colours of the rainbow. He squeezes Cisco’s shoulder, as if to reassure both of them. “Cisco.”

“Yeah?”

“I feel like- we’ve known each other for years, but I feel like in the past few days…” Hartley groans. “I’m so bad at this. I just- you’re so smart and nice and _beautiful_ , and if you hadn’t called me then I’d still be very lonely. And I’m not lonely.” He takes a deep breath. “Not anymore.”

Cisco’s brain is processing this both incredibly quickly and infuriatingly sluggishly. He reaches up to cover Hartley’s hand where it’s rested on his shoulder. His skin is smooth and warm, despite the Lab’s constant air-conditioning. “Hartley,” he says. “Hart. I’m only ever a phone call away.”

“I’m going to kiss you now,” Hartley says, his voice low and shaky as he reaches up to cup Cisco’s cheek so lightly that the engineer almost doesn’t feel it. “Is it okay if I kiss you?”

“Yes.”

Cisco closes his eyes as Hartley hesitantly leans forward, placing his free hand against the side of Cisco’s neck, his fingers slightly tickling the sensitive skin. He stutters in a breath as he feels Hartley’s presence grow nearer and nearer, until their lips are almost touching, and he can’t believe this is happening because he was sure, he was _certain_ that Hartley would never go for a guy like him, and god, he’s so nervous-

_Squeak._

“Oh, shit, god…uh, hi?”

  
Cisco wants to die as Barry’s voice cuts through the heavy air like a steak knife, intrusive and too-sharp.

“Barry,” Cisco sighs, leaning back and opening his eyes to see the speedster standing in the doorway, his cheeks almost as red as Hartley’s. “What, uh, what are you doing here? I thought you were _leaving_?”

“I’m so sorry,” Barry says, half-turning to leave. “I just needed to ask you something, but…you’re obviously busy. I’ll come back later!”

“You might as well just come in,” Hartley says, squeezing Cisco’s shoulder but not letting go. It’s almost a show of possessiveness, of power. _My Cisco, not yours_. “The moment’s been ruined anyway.”

Barry flinches, rubbing his hands together as he stays in the doorway. “Actually, you know what? It’s really not that important- I just had an idea for an upgrade for my suit.”

Cisco tries not to walk across the room and strangle him. Barry tends to have a knack for cockblocking him to the max, and _really_ , he should have known this would happen in STAR Labs of all places. He’s just glad that his annoyance is overriding his embarrassment, otherwise his cheeks would match Hartley’s.

It’s kind of endearing, really, watching Hartley shift uncomfortably, attempting to pretend that he’s not the same deep crimson colour as Barry’s suit. For someone so sharp, witty and unapologetic, he really does blush quite easily. Cisco wonders how many _other_ ways there are to turn Hartley such a delicious shade.

“We _are_ quite busy,” Hartley says, raising an eyebrow. “Perhaps this could be discussed _after_ we’ve figured out how to clean your apartment up for you.”

Surely Hartley knows how blunt he sounds- he _never_ talks to Cisco like this. It’s nice not to be on the other end of Hartley’s berating anymore, but Barry can be so damn _sensitive_ \- which can be a fantastic thing, don’t get him wrong- and Cisco’s kind of trying to avoid conflict at the moment.

“Behave,” Cisco hums, nudging Hartley’s warm hand from his shoulder whilst trying to hide a smile. He looks back to Barry. “What Hart _means_ is that I’ll be happy to go over your ideas in a couple of days- unless it’s urgent. It’s not urgent, right?”

“No,” Barry says, scratching his arm and looking incredibly guilty; to be honest, though, guilty _does_ tend to be his default expression these days. Cisco might have to bring it up with Iris- he’s not in the right mindset to host an intervention right now. “I’ll go now. Have fun, I guess?”

Cisco can barely make out Barry face-palming before taking off at super-speed. He smiles to himself, taking a moment to appreciate his best friend’s awkward antics, then turns back to Hartley. He’s suddenly shy, his heart picking up the same thundering pace as before and his hands shaking slightly.

“Heh,” Cisco laughs clumsily, entwining his hands in front of him and twiddling his thumbs. “Sorry ‘bout that, Barry’s timing isn’t always the best.”

“I hadn’t noticed,” Hartley replies dryly, glancing back towards the door. He stands up very straight and takes a step to the side, pawing through the items on the desk once again. “We should probably get back to work.”

_No, kiss me. Work can wait._

“Work is important,” Cisco says, cringing at himself. He half wants to take Hartley’s face in his hands and kiss him until they are completely familiar with each other’s lips, but it’s just like Hart had said before. The moment is _so_ gone. “I’ll find some music, I guess.”

Cisco takes a seat back at the computer, glancing over at Hartley periodically to find him doing the same. Their eyes meet once or twice, and they share a shy little smile.

_All in good time_ , Cisco thinks to himself, tucking a strand of loose hair behind an ear. _At least you know you have a chance now_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's nothing I love more than a bit of sexual tension, so sorry 'bout that! I hope this chapter was up to par, just a small break from the ghost-hunting whilst our resident cinnamon buns try to work out their feelings. The paranormal will be back in full swing next chapter!
> 
> If you're enjoying please don't hesitate to leave a comment, they really make my day! :)


	12. Salt Shaker

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cisco and Hartley return to Barry's apartment to continue their ghost-hunting activities.

After a few hours spent awkwardly glancing across the room at Hartley, Cisco decides that it’s time for a rest. He stands up and stiffly walks to the small couch shoved into the corner of the room.

“Slacking off, are we?” Hartley doesn’t turn around as Cisco drops onto the couch and tries to get comfortable. “You know we have work to do, right?”

Cisco scoffs, throwing an arm over his face to block out the harsh lights. “Dude, I organised the music. My work is done.”

To be honest, he’s kind of confused about _why_ Hartley’s acting as though nothing happened earlier. He’d never admit it, of course, preferring to think of himself as a bit of a Casanova (despite his slight lack of experience, especially with guys), but he’s not quite sure if he might have done or said something wrong. He runs back over what happened for the umpteenth time; Hartley went to kiss him, Barry walked in, Barry walked out. Hartley’s acting weird. God, he really needs a nap.

It’s not until Cisco suddenly jerks awake, having accidentally nodded off for half an hour or so, that he notices Hartley’s been working on some sort of vacuum cleaner-slash-gun-looking thing.

“What’ve you got there?” Cisco asks, sitting up and trying to smooth his hair into a more manageable style than ‘everywhere at once’.

Hartley doesn’t look up. “I’m just entertaining an idea,” he says. “I saw it on television years ago.”

Cisco groans as he stretches his cramped limbs and stands up, making his way over to where Hartley is inspecting a handful of small white pellets before placing them carefully in a box. “Rock salt again…would that show have been _Supernatural_ by any chance?”

“Yes,” Hartley says sharply, his shoulders hunching slightly in what Cisco can only imagine is embarrassment at being caught out as a fanboy. Well, at least he’s in similar company. “I built this gun from scratch a while ago- now I’ve modified it to work even better.”

“How so?”

Hartley hands the gun over, gesturing at its various components as he speaks. “Rather than shooting a single rock salt pellet, this works almost as a reverse vacuum cleaner. These little pellets,” he rattles the box, “go into this chamber here. They’re crushed up, and when I hold down the trigger…”

“It sprays salt,” Cisco finishes, shaking his head in amazement. “That’s awesome! Why the pellets, though? Why can’t we just pour rock salt into the chamber?”

“Because I kept spilling salt everywhere,” Hartley says, smirking to himself. “The pellets are easy to handle and don’t make a mess- easier to store. Plus, I have a ton of them left over from something else. Don’t ask.

“Oh, also,” Hartley continues, “our designated safe space will be the bathroom- one door and one window. If we burn sage incense and line the entryways with salt, we should be able to hole up in there if we’re attacked.”

“So, like, a safe house _inside_ a safe house,” Cisco muses, still inspecting the gun, running his fingers over the sleek design. “Sweet. Also, do we have a name for this puppy yet?”

Hartley shrugs one shoulder, cringing as Cisco swings the weapon his way. He reaches out to take it as if removing a toy from a small child. “ _Careful_ , there’s no safety on this thing. And no, I thought that was your job, _Vibe_.”

“It is, _Piper_.” Cisco chews on his pinkie nail for a second before snapping his fingers and exclaiming. “Aha! The Salt Shaker!”

“I’m not calling it that.”

 

* * *

 

 

Cisco bumps his shoulder against Hartley’s as they stand at the door to Barry’s apartment armed with an arsenal of new weapons. “I’m kinda hoping it’s not gonna jump out at us as soon as we walk inside.”

The apartment sounds pretty quiet, and unless anything’s happened on the short drive over, it should be in mint condition. Cisco half-considers checking his tablet to see if the motion sensors have gone off in the meantime, but decides against it- they’re here now, aren’t they?

“That’s why we have the gun,” Hartley drawls, lifting and readying it to shoot if need be. He steps back, gesturing for Cisco to open the door. “You open it and I’ll go in first. Stay sharp.”

Cisco flings the door open and steps to the side to let Hartley through, gripping his Bluetooth speaker in both hands. He waits until Hartley signals for him to follow and he does, stepping cautiously across the threshold and pulling the door closed behind him. It closes and locks with a _click_.

“Keep in mind,” Hartley says quietly, leading the way over to the living room, “that the apparition’s been at rest for a while. It might find it easier to materialise now. You might see it. It’ll almost certainly attack us.”

“Great,” Cisco replies half-heartedly, placing the speaker on the coffee table. He scrolls through his phone to find the playlist he’d sent to himself from his computer at STAR Labs earlier. “Should I play the music now?”

“Not yet. It might not even be here yet.”

_Yet_. They share a look before checking the kitchen and dining room, hallway, bedroom, and, last of all, the bathroom. Everything looks…well, everything looks exactly as they’d left it. It actually makes Cisco more anxious, the fact that the apparition hasn’t been throwing things around and making a general ruckus. He wishes he could see it like Hartley can, because dealing with an invisible entity with next to no visible evidence is seriously _freaking him the fuck out_.

“We might as well set up the bathroom,” Hartley says, lowering the Salt Shaker a bit and leading the way back out to the living area to gather the necessary items. “We’ll both feel a lot more secure if we have a designated safe zone.”

Cisco nods in agreement, standing by a little awkwardly and trying to stay out of the way as Hartley takes a container of rock salt, a couple of sticks of incense and a burner, and a stick of sage, letting Cisco carry the Salt Shaker.

After Hartley has finished securing the bathroom, he flips down the lid of the toilet and sits on top of it, pulling off his glasses and placing them on the vanity. Cisco follows suit, perching on the edge of the bathtub and looking down at his hands.

It’s the brief moment of reprieve that they both need.

“I can barely breathe in here,” he says, the scent of incense overwhelming in the small, sealed room. “Not really keen to leave, though.”

“Don’t worry,” Hartley says, his voice clouded with tiredness. “It won’t get the better of us.”

Cisco plays with his hands for a few seconds before just deciding, _fuck it_. He scoots along the edge of the bath until he’s sitting directly in front of Hartley, narrowing his eyes in thought more than anger. “You know we have to talk about it. What happened earlier, I mean.”

A dozen emotions cross Hartley’s face before he settles for slight discomfort. “Now’s not the time, Cisco. We have to- “

“Nope. Nuh-uh, Hart. We’re here, we’re alone, now’s the perfect time.” He shifts, leaning his elbows on his knees. “You can’t pretend there’s nothing between us. Please.”

Hartley closes his eyes. “Fine. I like you, Cisco- I like you a lot. I have for a while now, but honestly…” he sighs roughly, rubbing the back of his neck. “I was such an asshole to you for _years_ , and I still kind of am. I’m an asshole, I’m boring, I have _no_ friends. I’m a loser.”

“What, you think you don’t deserve me?” Cisco’s voice rises out of anger- not anger at Hartley, but anger at _anyone_ who’s ever made him feel like he’s not good enough. “You have to be kinder to yourself. Honestly, yeah- you were an asshole to me when I started at STAR. You were going through shit. I don’t blame you. Hart, the good you’ve done far outweighs the bad. And you’re not a loser,” he adds.

Hartley manages a half smile, taking his glasses from the vanity and sliding them back on. “Yeah, well…thank you,” he says softly, sincerely. “I tend to overthink.”

“Heh, I’ve noticed,” Cisco smiles, his veins flooding with cool adrenaline as he reaches out a hand and takes Hartley’s own. “You need to relax. I mean…I’m not an intimidating guy, right?”

“No, you’re really not.”

Cisco only has to debate for a second about leaning in and pressing their lips together. He decides, _screw it_ , and leans forward, only to jerk back at the loud crashes that emanate from the direction of the kitchen.

_Not again, dammit_. Even the damn ghost is cockblocking him now.

“Raincheck?” Hartley asks, his eyes lighting up hopefully.

Cisco nods. They open the bathroom door, careful not to disturb the thick line of salt under the doorjamb, and stalk down the hallway, Hartley leading with the Salt Shaker held out in front of him.

“It came from in here,” Hartley says, stepping into the kitchen with Cisco practically glued to his side. “Christ, look at the mess.”

At first glance it looks like the usual- pots and pans stacked up along the kitchen bench. Cisco grimaces as he realises that some of the plates have been flung across the room, denting the wall and smashing into across the floor. It looks as though two people have been fighting, launching things at each other from opposite sides of the room. A single knife sits on the floor beside the bench as though it’s been carefully placed, its blade ominously pointed towards the two scientists.

“Do you see it?”

Hartley glances around and shakes his head. “it’s not in this room, at least. Maybe get that music ready just in case, _Cisquito_. I’ll take the gun.”

As scared as he is, Cisco tries to suck it up and make his way to the living room as quickly as possible to retrieve his phone and speaker. He makes it over to the coffee table and picks up his belongings.

Then he hears a scuffle coming from the kitchen.

“Hartley!” Cisco rushes back to where Hartley is pressed up against the fridge, the gun held out in front of him with shaking hands. “What’s going on- where is it?”

“The knife,” Hartley says, eyes flicking between Cisco and where the knife is slowly rotating on the floor, spinning faster with each passing second as though someone is flicking the blade. “Get behind me.”

Cisco darts the few steps over to Hartley, frantically pressing the power button on the speaker with one hand and scrolling through his playlist with the other. “I’ve got the music ready!”

“Not yet,” Hartley whispers, his eyes tracking something that Cisco can’t see across the room. “It’s not attacking yet- it’s just watching.”

Stalemate.

It happens before Cisco can comprehend it. He still can’t see the apparition itself, but what he _can_ see is the knife stop moving. It shudders, blade pointing straight at him, and appears to hover into the air, its movements ragged and unpredictable.

It pulls back before launching forward, similar to a dart being thrown towards a dartboard- quick and sharp.

Hartley yells and Cisco closes his eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In how many different ways can I keep interrupting the epic kiss? Read on to find out.
> 
> It's been an eternity (so, like, a week) since I last updated, and I apologise for that! I hit a bit of a standstill with this pic, but I'm determined to see it through to the end. I've had a few new ideas over the past few days so hopefully I should be updating a bit more often!
> 
> As always, if you enjoyed please leave kudos or a comment, they totally encourage me when I'm having trouble writing! Have great day. :)


	13. Omnipresent

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A friend offers Cisco and Hartley amount of protection, and Cisco comes up with perhaps his best idea yet.

_He’s here._

Cisco throws his hands up to protect himself, the gesture aborted when he suddenly finds himself knocked across the room by a bolt of yellow. He slams into the kitchen counter and topples to the floor- _damn it, Barry, a little gentler next time_ \- and is stunned for a moment.

He looks up in time to see Barry and Hartley fall to the hard floor in a tangled heap, the knife embedding itself in the plasterboard behind them. The Salt Shaker goes off belatedly in Hartley’s hands, spraying a dusty layer of white harmlessly across the room.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Cisco yells, scrambling over and reaching up to grab the knife before the apparition can attempt round-two of _skin him alive_. “You guys okay?”

Barry clamours to his feet, glancing around the room far too quickly to be normal, his feet shuffling awkwardly beneath him. “Man, you’re lucky I was watching those cameras- “

“ _Thank you_ ,” Cisco breathes, clapping Barry on the shoulder gratefully. He crouches down to help Hartley up when he hears a muffled groan from the floor. “You okay, Hart?”

Hartley winces as he takes Cisco’s offered hand and pulls himself to his feet, readjusting his grip on the Salt Shaker. He inspects the kitchen, his shoulders loosening. “Yes. I’m fine. We’re not in danger for now- the apparition’s out of energy.” He nods in Barry’s direction. “Thanks for the save, but are you sure you really want to be here?”

Barry squirms, flickers of gold dancing along his skin and through the whites of his eyes. He sheepishly surveys the room again, his fingers twitching. “I mean…not really?” Cisco can tell it’s not meant to be a question. “You know me, the Flash- I run in, save everyone, and then I’m out again. Heh.”

“You’ve got things to do, anyway,” Cisco chips in, smiling gratefully at Barry. “A whole city to watch over. Go on, we’ll be fine.”

Barry shoots him an indebted look, promises he’ll be there in a heartbeat if they need help again, and is gone.

“Well,” Hartley says, rolling his shoulders and wincing slightly. His eyes darken. “We need to up the ante. This spirit isn’t playing around anymore.” His jaw twitches. “Neither are we.”

 

* * *

 

 

A few hours (and more than a few calls from Barry) later, Hartley and Cisco are curled up in their respective spots on Barry’s couch, nose-deep in research. Not that Cisco’s actually _doing_ much research- he’s still a little too ill-versed in the world of the paranormal to be much help. Give him metahumans over ghosts any day.

“We’re obviously not getting anywhere,” Cisco sighs, tipping his laptop shut and restlessly stretching out his limbs. “At least, I know _I’m_ not.”

Hartley’s hands hover above his own keyboard for a second before he follows Cisco’s lead, shutting down his computer and balancing it on his knees. He looks as though he could fall asleep at any moment, his glasses just barely managing to mask the bruise-like bags under his eyes.

“You know what we both need?” Cisco says after a beat of silence, his mind not currently functioning well enough to make any potentially life-altering decisions. “We need to be caffeinated. You up for a trip to Jitters? Triple-shot lattes and bagels?”

“Make it a blueberry muffin and it’s a date,” Hartley mumbles, stifling a yawn. He straightens up, suddenly looking as though he wants to disappear into the floor forever. “I mean, not a _date_ -date. Unless…unless you want it to be?”

Biting the insides of his cheeks to stifle his own yawn, Cisco takes a second to observe how utterly shitty, yet totally kissable, Hartley looks. By now, though, he knows better to try and steal a peck; he’s honestly starting to think that either he’s cursed, or the universe just doesn’t want them to be together.

Well, screw the universe.

Cisco scoffs lightly. “Hartley, your timing is fucking terrible, but yes. I mean, sure, why not?”

 

* * *

 

 

“We’re not going back in there until we have a plan,” Cisco says firmly, cupping his coffee with both hands and letting the warmth seep into his palms.

He and Hartley practically had to fight for a seat at Jitters- who knew late afternoons yielded such high demand for caffeine? Perched on a stool in the corner of the café, they sit in silence for a while, sipping their coffees and nibbling on their respective pastries- a bit soggy at this time of day, but they’re not fussy.

 “You’re quiet,” Cisco says around a mouthful of crumbs. “What’s up?”

“Just thinking.” Hartley absentmindedly plays with a small sachet of sugar, tossing it between his hands. “Remember how, before the apparition, we were dealing with the kitchen ghost?”

“Yeah?”

“Well,” Hartley continues, “you saw what the kitchen was like when we walked in earlier. It was like there had been a fight- like the kitchen ghost had stacked up all that crockery, only to have the apparition fling it across the room.”

“I remember.”

“I saw them both.” Hartley’s eye’s glint with something akin to guilt, but only for a second. “I only saw the kitchen ghost briefly, but I think…I _know_ she’s putting herself in danger to protect us.”

“Who, Hartley? Who is she?”

Hartley rips open the sugar sachet and lets the tiny white granules fall into his mug. “The previous owner. She’s harmless, just a little old lady, but this apparition, this _monster_ …it wants to hurt us- “

“Obviously!”

“And it’s going to hurt her if we don’t figure out a way to get rid of it for good.”

_Can_ a ghost be hurt? Cisco doesn’t know, but he trusts Hartley’s word nevertheless. The kitchen ghost…no, they can’t call her that anymore, not now that Hartley’s actually seen her…not now that she’s an actual _person_. The apparition is different, of course; it’s not so much a ghost as a mass of dark energy.

What’s the correlation between the old lady and the kitchen, though? Why expend so much energy lining up crockery and cutlery, only to have it all packed away? Why not try to communicate through a more routine method? So many questions.

Hartley seems to understand exactly what Cisco’s thinking, despite it being left unsaid. “She has a lot of information that could be helpful. We need to figure out how to communicate with her without putting ourselves in danger.”

Cisco racks his brain for ideas. How to communicate with the ghost…well, for starters, he’s _not_ using the Ouija board again, no way. That leaves other methods of interaction with the spirit world- ghost boxes, séances- none of which he’s particularly willing to try.

_Man, if only I could_ vibe _the old lady_ , Cisco thinks to himself, stiffening as the beginnings of a potentially terrible idea begin to glue together in his mind. He remembers Hartley’s descriptions of the theoretical _shadow world_ , essentially a parallel dimension. If the old lady ghost _isn’t_ a part of the shadow dimension- which she probably isn’t, given that Hartley had seen her in the form of a human rather than a dark and formless blob of shadow- then the chances are that she exists on an entirely _different_ dimension again- an omnipresent one at that. Kind of like how the speedforce exists as a force of pervasive dimensional energy.

He decides to call it the ghostforce and permits himself a tiny smile.

“You know,” Cisco begins, catching Hartley’s eyes and taking another sip of his coffee, “I’ve vibed myself into the speedforce before. It’s all about dimensions, dimensional energy, you know the drill, right?”

“And?” Hartley looks so tired, it’s a wonder he’s still awake. The caffeine doesn’t seem to be affecting him in the slightest- not surprising, given the amount of coffee and energy drinks the _both_ of them drink on the daily. Like Cisco, he’s probably built up quite the tolerance. “What does this have to do with anything?”

At Cisco’s sly smile, Hartley seems to realise just where he’s going with this. He blanches, crosses his arms over his chest, and mutters a resounding, “No.”.

“I can vibe myself- “

“No.”

“- to wherever the ghost is- “

“ _No_.”

Cisco starts to raise his voice before remembering they’re in Jitters, and that their conversation might _intimidate_ some of the other patrons. “Listen to me, Hart! It’s cool, I won’t even be in the shadow dimension. Just a quick chat with this sweet little old lady, and I’m done! She might know something crucial.”

Hartley narrows his eyes, looks at the ceiling then at the floor, and finally settles for pouting in Cisco’s direction. “Fine,” he says, defeated. “But don’t think I’m not coming with you.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was so hard to write, like?? Every time I thought I was done, I ended up reworking the whole thing, so I hope it doesn't feel too disjointed- if there are any mistakes please let me know. I hope it was up to parr nevertheless, if you enjoyed please don't hesitate to leave kudos or a comment, they help to chase away the writer's block like nothing else and I'm always uber-appreciative!
> 
> Have a good day guys. :)

**Author's Note:**

> The ghost-hunting story nobody asked for, but I wanted to write anyway! I love the idea of such scientifically-minded people being scared to death by things that go bump in the night.
> 
> Stay tuned for more if you enjoyed, and thanks for reading! :)


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